


The Krayt Dragon of Tatooine

by Luzifersboyfriend



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Prequel Trilogy, Star Wars: The Clone Wars (2008) - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Anakin Skywalker Needs a Hug, Angst, Bottom Anakin Skywalker, Denial of Feelings, Drama, Eventual Smut, Idiots who don't know what feelings are, Jedi Knight Obi-Wan Kenobi, M/M, Platonic Cuddling, Romance, Slave Anakin Skywalker, Slow Burn, Sort of? - Freeform, Tatooine Slave Culture, Top Obi-Wan Kenobi, hmmm who knows, more tags to be added when the story progresses, not beta read we die like men, not me, platonic clone intimacy, should i spoiler in the tags to inform people?
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-07-24
Updated: 2020-06-28
Packaged: 2020-07-18 00:24:30
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 9
Words: 30,762
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19965688
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Luzifersboyfriend/pseuds/Luzifersboyfriend
Summary: On a mission to secure a treaty with the infamous Jabba the Hutt, Jedi Knight Obi-Wan Kenobi finds a Force sensitive slave held by no other than Jabba himself. Over the course of his stay, Obi-Wan realizes just how bright in the Force this young man is, how much he deserves his freedom and how close he might just be to taking that freedom for himself. If only he could help, but would the Jedi Council authorize such a change in plans?Would that stop him?How willing is he to go for this handsome man, that glows so brightly in the Force, Obi-Wan is unable to look away?NOTE: Updates right now are very slow!





	1. To make a name, you pay the price

**Author's Note:**

> So this mostly just sprang into existence with a vague idea and then a lot of begging from me? I have sat over this for so long I can't tell if it got any better from editing, so here goes nothing. 
> 
> As always, none of these characters are mine, I only have the pleasure to put them in any scenario I please and let them run haywire in the process.
> 
> Edit: I added some more spacing because one can never have enough spacing.
> 
> Edit: Chapter title is from the song 'Bullet in a Gun' by Imagine Dragons.

In the vast vacuum of space, far removed from anything one would call home, a small ship made its way through the endless blue wash of hyperspace. In it, Obi-Wan Kenobi, Jedi Knight, was propped up in the pilot’s seat, considering taking the fifth nap of his journey. To say, he was sick and tired of being the Negotiator and flying out to Outer Rim worlds to make treaties, was quite frankly right on point. 

Obi-Wan Kenobi was tired of doing the Jedi Council’s boring work. He knew that these treaties were just as, if not more so, important than the countless battles raging in far off parts of the galaxy. And yet, after flying for almost 18 hours, one did question why exactly it was to be attempted to come to an agreement with the Hutts of all crime syndicates. _I might as well be flying into the lion’s den with nothing but a lightsaber and my tongue to keep me out of trouble,_ Obi-Wan thought with disdain. Of course he was glad to get a break from being on the front lines and fighting for what was right, but sometimes negotiating was exhausting as well.

His grumbling thoughts were interrupted by the chirping of the ship’s console, just before the streaking white of stars crystalized back into pinpoints of light and the ship lurched out of hyperspace. Leaning forward, Obi-Wan took his feet from the console to inspect the planet unfurling before his viewport with a small huff of annoyance. He’d had quite enough of dusty planets to last him a lifetime, but still he could appreciate its wildness in contrast to Coruscant’s manufactured weather and consistently same temperature, it almost made sandstorms and unbearable heat seem welcoming. Keyword hereby being _almost._

Laid out in front of him was Tatooine, a desert like none else, all sand and merciless heat. There was beauty in it’s cruel lines, mirrored in the creatures, who chose to live there, some voluntarily and others because they had nowhere else to go. The beige colour of its surface pitted a stark contrast against the black void of space, only worsened by his ship’s slow descent to the surface. This also revealed the deeper rust red desert and mountain outcroppings, reminiscent of ‘saber gashes or battle wounds with how they streaked through the sand colour of Tatooine, giving the planet a war-riddled appearance. 

The copper red colour reminded him of the Coruscant guard, reminiscent not only in colour but in terrifying ruthlessness, too.

He thanked the Force for Autopilot for just about the seventeenth time since he’d started flying, since it only required him to punch in the bare minimum of information in order to plot the course for landing. It wasn’t like he couldn’t fly, he just really wasn’t very fond of it and did not understand other people’s fascination concerning this particular topic. He understood to some degree that it could make someone happy to fly fast, if one flew for fun, but for him, someone who had only ever flown because they needed to go somewhere, it would always be more of a chore than the freedom of your very own little world in the middle of the void. 

After another twenty minutes of watching Tatooine loom ever closer and mountains and dunes rising around him, he set the small ship down on the dusty duracrete landing platform outside of the town of Mos Eisley. Waiting until the sand had once again settled around his ship, Obi-Wan got out of the pilot’s seat and threw his pale grey cloak on in an attempt to cover his face from the unforgiving heat, he knew was waiting for him outside of his ship. 

He had still opted for his Jedi tunics, all in a beige colour, but replaced the usual brown cloak for a lighter grey one. It made him a ghost of the dunes, the only colour on his person the copper of his hair, but even that disappeared under his hood.

The information gathered from the Archives and his own knowledge proved correct when the landing ramp hissed open, Tatooine greeting him with a wall of pure, dry heat. He was just about willing to turn straight back around, start the ship and never come back again, Jedi Council be damned. But a diligent Jedi would do anything for the Republic and so, releasing his annoyance into the Force, he opted to stick the heat out.

With a long-suffering sigh, Obi-Wan made his way out into the barren climate of Tatooine to check out his surroundings and possibly rent a speeder bike to get to Jabba’s palace. As far as he knew, it lay north of Mos Eisley and he really wasn’t fond of walking with the twin suns burning a hole straight through his chest. 

Patting his side to check his lightsaber was still in place, Obi-Wan went to pay the lot keeper, who was already impatiently coming out of his rickety booth to collect the money. Thankfully, he took Republican Credits, since Mos Eisley was what must be the most touristy place on the entirety of Tatooine, considering how inhospitable the planet was and most off-worlders only had Republican Credits - unless, of course they were there for illegal purposes, which most were. As was to be expected, the price was incredibly steep for leaving his ship, 150 credits a day, therefore 450 for the three days he had planned to stay. Since it wasn’t his money he was spending - not that Jedi had any money of their own - Obi-Wan could part with them easily, essential to the mission as it was. 

Once that had been taken care of, Obi-Wan wandered into Mos Eisley, hoping to get a headstart on the mission and possibly out of the heat as fast as possible. What he had not expected - but in hindsight, should have - once entering the rather busy streets of afternoon Mos Eisley, was quite how loud, busy and hot it was.

The beige duracrete buildings were lined with colorful scraps of cloth, some hanging from small windows and others draped over wires spanning from one house to the next. It was unclear if they were purely decoration or clothes hung out to air, but the change was jarring from the endless white and beige of sand as far as one could see to bright flashes of colour whenever Obi-Wan looked up. This vibrant sign of life was reflected in the masses of all sorts of creatures found in the bustling market streets, from merchants trying to sell their wares over locals to tourists, just about every race seemed to be represented here.

But make no mistake, Mos Eisley was still an unpleasant place. Poverty showed it’s cruel face in the ragged clothes hanging from way too small bodies, in the shady alleys were Obi-Wan could definitely see illegal deals being made, all the way to those who stole from the wealthy passerby. He didn’t have the heart to intervene, not when the thief so desperately needed the money. And, as he reminded himself time and time again, was also not part of his mission. 

Wishing he could stay and buy something from the small children flocking around the tourists, trying to sell their things, if only to make them a little money, he knew he couldn’t spend all his credits in Mos Eisley. Especially while he didn’t know how much renting a speeder bike would be. It made his heart ache, to see all these kids, who would have had such a bright future, if they had been born anywhere than under the unforgiving stare of the twin suns, survive on scraps of other people’s wealth. 

Declining the latest offer - _“Would you like to buy some handmade garments, kind sir?” in broken basic_ \- Obi-Wan hurried through the masses, cloak wrapped around him tightly and feeling like he was about to pass out in the oppressing dryness of the heat. If he stayed any longer, if he listened to each one of the children trying to make money, he would cave and give them his credits, for the futile hope that his kindness had made any lasting difference in the harsh world of Tatooine. He was scanning the shop fronts, which was made significantly harder by only being partially done in basic, until one stood out to him, just what he had been looking for - a speeder rental!

Stepping into the shade the duracrete building offered felt like being able to breathe again after hours under water. The Ugnaught that appeared to run the business, came bustling over with a dirty rag over his shoulder and speeder oil smeared on his hands. He was happy to show Obi-Wan around the selection of bikes he offered for renting, and Obi-Wan - not much of an expert on vehicles - choose one, that not only seemed to go at a good speed, but was also affordable for the three days. The T-85 as the merchant called it, cost him 500 credits for the entirety of his stay and not for the first time was he glad for the Republic’s financing of Jedis. 

Once he had handed over the credits, the Ugnaught led him through the small building out the back, where they found themselves in a courtyard of sorts, which was opened on one side to let the customers leave on the bikes. Showing him to a faded red speeder, that, considering the circumstances was still in good condition, the shopkeep wished him good travels, before disappearing back into the building. 

With a soft sigh of disgruntlement, Obi-Wan let his hand slide over the metal hull of the speeder, before swinging his leg over it and starting up the engine in a piercing whine. Alright, so it wasn’t the newest model, but it would do. He still preferred this to spaceships, endlessly, he liked being close to the ground. Maneuvering out of the courtyard proved harder than he thought, only getting used to the vibrations beneath him as the accelerator rumbled steadily. 

Once he was out of the confinement of the city though, it became a lot easier to wind his way around Mos Eisley up to the north end of the town. Kicking up sand behind him as he went, Obi-Wan could almost understand how this would be fun to people more reckless and mechanically inclined than him. As it was, it was a lot more pleasant than walking and with the suns slowly creeping below the horizon, the dying rays of sun almost made the desert beautiful in its lethality. 

However, that also meant he had to hurry to get to Jabba’s palace before night fell, because his cloak would not be a match for the frigid cold of desert nights. Grudgingly accelerating, Obi-Wan sped through the dunes to where he knew the palace to lie. He just hoped he wouldn’t get lost, because everything started to look rather similar in the dusk light of the second sun unblinkingly staring at his back.

* * *

He didn’t know for how long he’d been riding through the desert, all he knew was that it had started to get unbearingly cold and the sky was a grey blue above him. And it was _endless,_ a myriad of stars starting to make an appearance, like bright jewels woven into dark cloth. Magnificent, in its beauty above him, he wanted to stay forever.

Maybe that was the true danger of the mother desert, wanting to wander so far from civilisation until one lost themselves to the stars overhead. His ears were filled with the steady howl of his bike, almost an extension of himself at this point as he felt ahead with the Force, the dying light not enough to guide him anymore. It was cathartic in a way, only him and the piece of machinery. Only him and his thoughts.

But a cluster of lights caught his attention minutes later, a cluster of lights that definitely wasn’t a family of stars. Too yellow in lighting, and too close to the ground, relief washed through Obi-Wan. He had made it! It must have been Jabba’s palace, no other building was out in the desert like that.

He was shivering by the time his speeder rolled up to the main entrance of the Hutt residence as the desert’s cold had settled into his bones after a day of excruciating heat, and he never thought he’d be so glad to see that behemoth of durasteel and stone loom over him. But as it was, any excuse to get out of the cold, as cathartic as the ride had been, was welcomed with shaking hands.

Getting off the speeder proved a little difficult when his legs shook ever so slightly, but once he was safely on the ground, two of Jabba’s Gamorrean guards had already come to greet him. He informed them of his intentions - _Obi-Wan Kenobi, on behalf of the Republic_ \- they escorted him inside the palace. 

The inside wasn’t any more pleasant than it looked from the outside, all dark rust coloured duracrete and crawling with outlaws and guards. Truly, an unpleasant place, especially for a Jedi knight like him. His hand tightened on his lightsaber beneath his cloak, but he reminded himself that he was here for negotiations, to use his words instead of his ‘saber. However that would go, he did not have the biggest hope of succeeding. 

He was leered at like the main course of a meal, a special kind of hunger in the eyes of the people they passed, he just knew they were calculating the price of his head on the black market and how much trouble it would be worth. But the guards surrounding him deterred any of them so far, the only thing changing where the whispering that followed him like a shadow. 

It felt like walking into the cave of a rat coven, a pack of starving predators breathing down his neck. But he wouldn’t be a Jedi if he couldn’t pretend none of it fazed him at all. 

The Gamorreans brought him straight before Jabba the Hutt, the giant slug like creature the centre of attention in the main hall, alleviated by his motorized throne and ringed by guards and trusted entourage. Obi-Wan slowly let his gaze wander over each of them wearily, freezing as a presence brushed against him in the Force. 

Eyes widening, he followed the echo of where it had touched his own Force signature, and his eyes fell on the young man kneeling off to the side before Jabba’s throne. He could feel him in the force, shining brighter than anything he had ever felt, like a star surrounded by the dull call of the void. There was no mistaking him, and yet his position spoke otherwise. Obi-Wan couldn’t wrap his head around it quite yet. 

Blue eyes, a wicked smirk.

_A Force sensitive._


	2. You have been found wanting

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Obi-Wan not only meets Jabba the Hutt, but also the young man he had noticed. It's almost as if the Force is ushering them towards one another, but that thought is best kept behind his mental shields.
> 
> He does, however, learn this man's name.
> 
> _The gravitational pull gets stronger._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So I'm back with another chapter? Wow, right?! Don't expect me to do this every time, y'all, but I have a bit more time now to beg my muse to behave.
> 
> Enjoy this chapter, my dudes!
> 
> Edit: Chapter title is from the song 'The Wolf' by Mumford and Sons.

Obi-Wan still couldn’t believe it. Jabba the Hutt was keeping a Force sensitive in his palace without the Jedi’s knowledge? How they had missed the young man on their last rotation was a mystery to him, one the council better explain once he contacted them with the news. Because there was no way to miss him when one was standing directly in front of the young man, he _glowed,_ a bright halo surrounding him in the Force. But for now, he had other things to focus on, for example a treaty to ensure and he was going to focus on that, _only_ that. He could worry about the Force sensitive later.

_“Ah, master Jedi!”_ the Hutt exclaimed with an almost tense, guarded expression, if that could even be said about a Hutt’s face. Obi-Wan was glad for the protocol droid standing at the edge of Jabba’s throne, since he couldn’t speak Huttese, a language, in which Jabba was currently addressing him in. The protocol droid - one that looked like a standard 3PO-model - was a flashy gold, like Jabba was trying to impress him by flaunting his wealth, which Obi-Wan was all too aware of. Obi-Wan was thankful for it either way.

_“The great Jabba the Hutt wishes to inform the master Jedi, that he is glad the Jedi could come and is looking forward to getting to know him better through their partnership!”_ the droid translated, nodding it’s golden head at him in allowance to speak. Obi-Wan had almost forgotten how stilted and flat droid speech patterns were, after being so used to only hearing the beeping and chirping of droidspeak from most of them. Politely inclining his head towards it, Obi-Wan turned to look at Jabba instead.

“It is quite an honor to be speaking with you, great Jabba the Hutt, and I, too, wish these negotiations to go successful. Perhaps, even though the hour is late, we could start discussing things in private?” His reply was accompanied by a pointed look at the many bystanders who had turned to listen into the conversation with interest. After all, a Jedi there without his lightsaber ignited, was a rather unusual sight. 

The matters he had been sent to discuss though, were highly confidential and of utmost importance as the council had reminded him multiple times. To put it simply, the Republic was becoming desperate and the secret trade routes deep in Hutt space would benefit them greatly. That’s why Obi-Wan was here, he reminded himself, as his eyes carefully scanned around the room, recognising at least four wanted bounty hunters. Underneath all his robes and Jedi exterior, he itched for a fight, especially with outlaws and known criminals like these, but once again he had to remind himself _not today._

The droid’s smooth basic made him snap back into the present as it informed him, Jabba would be willing to discuss the treaty in the morning, since he had guests to entertain at that moment but of course Obi-Wan was welcome to join the festivities. He was quite sure, Jabba had used less formal language than the droid, but he hadn’t expected anything else, really. He was hardly going to let his guard down in the company of so many people that surely wanted his head, and it wasn’t like he would be frowned upon if he wanted to go to his room - he had been travelling for twenty four hours now and the weariness was settling into his bones, making his body heavy with exhaustion.

Bowing his head in acceptance, he was about to decline Jabba’s offer of drinking and watching skimpily-clad women dance, when he cut in again with more rumbling Huttese the droid was quick to translate. Maybe he had seen something on the Jedi’s face or he had another ulterior motive, that would only reveal itself later on. Whatever the reason was, his words were spot on.

_“However you do look tired, Master Jedi! Perhaps you want someone to show you to your room,”_ the droid started, and he did not at all like the lewd look on Jabba’s face as it repeated his words. He only caught the Hutt’s drift, when the man from earlier - _the force sensitive!_ \- smoothly rose from his position at Jabba’s feet to walk over to Obi-Wan. There must have been a cue in Jabba’s Huttese, that had made the man move, and Obi-Wan was once again curious. Did he speak exclusively in Huttese? How long had Jabba had possession of him for? Now at least, he knew Jabba hardly thought him to sleep but was trying to tempt him. Rather successfully, he might add.

Only when the man came closer, did Obi-Wan really notice his clothes in the dim light of the main chamber, the cleverly cut black leather and cloth revealing his purpose just as much as words would have. It made him look just as alluring as it did lethal, the simple, warrior-esque cut of what remained a pleasure slave’s outfit. The collar around his neck left no mistaking his position, how little power over his own being he truly held, which curiously was not mirrored in his presence. Obi-Wan’s heart ached for the man even as his quiet presence lured all gazes towards him like a sun’s gravitational pull.

_“The great Jabba the Hutt wants to inform the Jedi that this slave, named the Krayt Dragon, will cater to your every need during your stay with Jabba the Hutt. See this as a welcoming gift to show the great Jabba the Hutt’s generous spirit and warmth of heart,”_ the droid interrupted his staring, its tone impassive but the look on Jabba’s face leaving not much of the lewd suggestion to the imagination. So this was more of a present to tide the Jedi over until the next morning than any actual altruistic tendencies. He was fairly sure, there should have been more of an emphasis on every need that the droid had conveniently skipped over.

With another bow towards Jabba, Obi-Wan let the man take his hand and lead him away from the main hall with a formal, “So we shall discuss business in the morning, great Jabba the Hutt, may your evening be joyful.” He could hear the droid translate his sentence into Huttese, but all his focus was currently on the comforting weight of a hand in his. Unable to remember when the last time was that he had someone else so close to him while not in the middle of battle, the warmth of his palm was all he could focus on. It seemed to be a lot hotter than his own hands ever were and he didn’t know if it had something to do with having been on Tatooine for Force knows how long, but the skin tone would certainly match. Sun-kissed gold. 

The young man had yet to say anything, walking with Obi-Wan’s hand tightly gripped in his as he guided him through the masses of leering outlaws. Obi-Wan wasn’t sure how he felt about practically having a pleasure slave assigned to him for the days he planned on staying and everyone _knowing_ he had a pleasure slave assigned to his person, _especially_ because as hard as he tried he couldn’t deny the man’s attractiveness. 

Nevertheless it didn’t sit right with Obi-Wan, the very idea of slaves making him angry beyond comprehension, but maybe this wasn’t the biggest loss, he could have suffered all things considered. He could always try and free the young man, once this was all over. But he knew for now, if he wanted to get the trade routes from Jabba, he had to play nice.

That didn’t stop him from watching the broad, bared back pushing its way through the masses before him, the cut of his shirt practically drew his gaze in and down the freed length of his spine until black cloth once again wrapped around his waist, leaving a teasing sliver of exposed skin hinting at what lay beneath. 

He had plenty of time to take his appearance in while he was guided through a narrow winding staircase in the dim light of synth-torches, leading up into the higher parts of the palace. The black cut a striking contrast to the sun-kissed bronze skin of his back and the golden curls brushing over the man’s nape. In short, he was _breathtaking._

Everything from the way he walked to how he was dressed, was designed to be graceful, ethereal like the desert itself. Even while winding through the masses of people in a way more akin to a bodyguard, did his hips sway teasingly, making the wide fabric of his pants swish around his thighs, only to have it tighten around his calves in wraps of leather. It seemed his entire outfit was reduced to strategically cut black material and a whole lot of teasing. Suddenly Obi-Wan wasn’t the only one being stared at hungrily, he noticed. 

Not too shortly after, they stopped in front of a door in a deserted corridor and Obi-Wan quickly looked away from the man’s entrancing appearance, feeling like he had been caught doing something he shouldn’t be doing. He had to be careful, it might be a trap after all, like a Reeksa - entice him in until the trap sprung closed and this palace would devour him whole. Letting go of Obi-Wan’s hand to open the worn-looking durasteel, the young man stepped aside to let him in. 

Inside, the room wasn’t the worst place he had stayed in over the course of the Clone Wars so far. It had one-sided transparisteel windows that let some of Tatooine’s glaring light in without heating up too much, and was equipped with a bed and a small desk, another door leading off into what he assumed was the ‘fresher. It was relatively nice, though there had been made no effort to lighten up the dark durasteel walls with any sort of decorations. He wasn’t picky. It felt fitting to this situation, everything a little rough around the edges - the palace, the mission, him and the Krayt Dragon.

Walking over to the bed, Obi-Wan finally peeled himself out of his cloak with a look of annoyance on his face at the sand that had managed to sneak underneath and into his hair. It was always the same, no matter how hard he tried, he’d find some of the wretched material even weeks later. While in the process of folding it, he noticed the man’s stare practically boring into his neck and carefully turned around to where he was leaning on the doorframe, regarding him curiously. It was unnerving to say the least, making his skin crawl in a way he couldn’t decide if good or not, but whenever he reached out to the Force it would come back electric, but not hostile. _As if it had been waiting for this, for them here, encased in durasteel walls._

The young man exuded easy confidence despite his position and the smile on his face was sharp around the edges, reminiscent of a loth cat about to pounce. Obi-Wan felt rather out of depth with such focus directed at his person and busied himself with folding and refolding his cloak as he tried for conversational. “So, where did you get the name Krayt Dragon?” was the first thing he could think of, something not too personal but which put forth an interest for conversation. 

The man’s mouth twisted into a wry little smile and he replied “From the slavers, said my temperament matched that of one of them beasts,” in strangely melodic basic, no doubt huttesian influence. It sounded nice, deeper than he had expected, the smoothness making his cheeks heat up. _Oh yes, he was way out of his depth here._ But thankfully, he didn’t seem offended, talking about being enslaved as others would about the weather.

Meanwhile, he - the Krayt Dragon - looked like he was merely toying with his prey, his Force signature brushing against Obi-Wan’s seemingly unintentionally, but maybe he was just teasing. How much of a grasp he had on it was unclear, but he had to have some control, because the power Obi-Wan sensed lurking within him, was cleverly concealed outwardly, making him seem less of a threat than Obi-Wan thought he could be. The only thing that really stood out was how he did not seem to think of himself as captured or lesser, quite frankly he seemed like he thought of himself as _superior._

It was fascinating to watch how he held himself, how relaxed and open he acted, he wanted to know if it was the truth. If he was just that good at acting or if he was genuinely relaxed, of course it helped that Obi-Wan also harboured an interest in his person and wanted to get to know him better and so, asking a more personal question almost came easily to him. 

“So, do you have another name besides the Krayt Dragon? It’s rather hard to be calling you that in my head, it sounds too formal, if we will be spending the next three days together” he inquired with a small quirk of his lips. He was aching for a shower, but it felt rude to just leave him standing there, since he had been assigned to him after all. He didn’t want to come off as impolite, but he also did not want to take advantage of the young man. Nevertheless he felt tired and still hadn’t quite shaken the cold of the desert at night, so inevitably he would be going for a shower soon. 

The Krayt Dragon appeared to pause for a split second, contemplate something, before he broke into a teasing grin. “Don’t I get to know your name first, master _Jeedai_?” he challenged, raising an eyebrow as he brushed their force signatures together. That must have been on purpose, there was no way it hadn’t been as it was too well timed with his words, like a curious friendly nudge. 

The Jedi also noted the curious pronunciation of _Jedi,_ once again eager to learn more but reining himself in - he had all of three days to get to know him better, and it was best if he first contemplated why he had such an interest in the man. And because he strongly believed in honesty and manners, he answered truthfully.

“Obi-Wan Kenobi.”

“Well, it’s nice to meet you, Obi-Wan Kenobi, master _Jeedai._ My name is Anakin Skywalker, the Krayt Dragon of Tatooine.”

_Anakin Skywalker._ Obi-Wan did have to say, he liked that a lot more than Krayt Dragon. It had a nice ring to it, more intimate in a way and he smiled at the young man. 

“It’s nice to meet you too, Anakin. If you don’t mind, I'd rather like to visit the ‘freshers after a day of travelling.” 

His tone was apologetic as he said it, accompanied by another polite smile, but he didn't have to worry. The man - _Anakin_ \- replied easily, not bothered by his being superfluous. He had caved to his body’s demands, though they were ones that were to be expected after such long travels and so he wasn’t too disappointed in himself.

“Of course, the ‘fresher is right through the door there, and you must be tired. I’ll organise some food to be brought up for you,” Anakin gave a small nod in the direction of the door, before turning to leave with a smile.

“Thank you!” Obi-Wan called after him, feeling like a proper _di’kut,_ as his clone commander would say. He had no idea what the polite thing to do was, in a situation like this, worried he might not only offend Anakin but Jabba, too, and jeopardize the mission.

Slipping his tabards off with a soft sigh, he made quick work of the rest of his clothes, taking care to fold them orderly and set them on his bed. It felt good to strip out of his clothes at the end of the day to step into the water, like a breath of fresh air. It surprised him that Jabba’s palace had water, but then again as a crime lord - he could presumably have just about anything imported, even water in the middle of the biggest desert known to him. 

Once in the shower, he let the day go passed again, reviewing the things that had happened in his mind’s eye. The flight to Tatooine, Mos Eisley, the speeder rental, the journey to Jabba’s palace, the heat. Jabba. 

_Anakin._

He didn't dare let his thoughts dwell on the handsome Force sensitive, afraid they would stray too far and get him into trouble. 

The sonic was small, and so he stepped out a few minutes later with a few fresh bruises on his elbows and curses on his tongue, having banged himself against the wall multiple times on accident. Good thing, he hadn't thought of Anakin too intensively then, there definitely was no space here for any activities other than washing oneself. It wouldn’t feel right anyways, but he knew all about that particular feeling of shame, that betrayal of his own thoughts. 

Grabbing one of the synth towels laid out for him, he quickly dried himself off, noting the high quality of the towels with surprise. Jabba really did like to flaunt his wealth then, first Anakin, then the room and now this. The Hutt wanted him to know what kind of influence he possessed, something that hadn't been lost on Obi-Wan at all. 

* * *

Feeling a lot less sweaty and tired after the refreshing shower, he made his way out of the ‘fresher to gather his clothes he had forgotten to take in with him, but froze in the doorway. 

Anakin turned when he heard the ‘fresher door open, about to say something when the words died in his throat. So the Jedi did pack heat under all those robes, he noted with interest, unable to hide the shark-toothed smirk on his face. 

The sight of milky skin greeted him, marred with battle scars and dotted with freckles. He let his eyes wander for a second, before meeting his eyes. There was no way he was going to forget the pretty Jedi any time soon, with the copper hair and milky skin. It could always be worse, he mused, right now things didn’t seem so bad.

“So, you going to just stand there and stare or put some clothes on? It would be such a shame to have the food go cold. You can, of course, eat naked if you so wish - be my guest.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for this tiny cliffhanger, I'll do my best to post the next chapter soon.
> 
> Once again, I'm grateful for any and all comments and kudos, I'm still surprised people are actually reading this. So thanks!
> 
> See you guys next time!


	3. Delicate in every way but one

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Confessions have been made, a path laid out in the Force, unspoken promises heavy in the air.
> 
> _Perhaps they aren't so different after all._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm actually back? Surprise! Hope you like this chapter, because I do. 
> 
> Imagine it with the song 'Sleeping on the Floor' by the Lumineers or 'Hood' by Perfume Genius playing in the background.
> 
> If you want my entire playlist for this, just ask.
> 
> Edit: Chapter title is from the song 'Glory and Gore' by Lorde.

_“So, you going to just stand there and stare or put some clothes on? It would be such a shame to have the food go cold. You can, of course, eat naked if you so wish - be my guest.”_

Obi-Wan’s face burned with a mixture of embarrassment and heat. The gaze Anakin had pinned him with before speaking had momentarily short circuited his brain and so he cleared his throat, before stammering, “Yes, right, let me just grab my clothes.”

He forewent the tabards and outer tunic, opting to stay only in the undertunic and pants in an effort to keep cool and be done as fast as possible, because he could feel Anakin’s gaze lingering on his back like his own had when they'd walked. And wasn’t that ironic? He’d rather not think about it too closely, about what it implied.

Only when he was dressed, did he notice the food laid out on the floor of lack of a better place to put it, his eyebrows shooting up. “This‒ all of this is for me?” He asked incredulously, the momentary embarrassment forgotten.

There was no way he was going to eat all of that on his own, he mused, an idea forming in his head and making a smile tug at his mouth. Anakin looked underfed anyways, and he wasn't particularly keen on being watched while he ate. Not after the young man’s stare already felt like it could burn holes into his skin with its intensity.

Settling on the floor in front of the various plates of fresh fruit, what looked like bantha stew soup, Tatooinian flatbread, and a pie of sorts, he patted the space next to him invitingly. Someone was making sure he was well-fed and felt welcomed. He didn't know if it was Jabba’s instructions or Anakin’s doing, and didn't know which option he would prefer.

Anakin did sit down next to him, but when offered food he refused, saying it was for Obi-Wan’s gain and not his own. Apparently he wasn't allowed to eat if not strictly ordered by Jabba or his men. Obi-Wan buried the contempt over that simple truth by smiling at him a little mischievously.

“But what if I order you to test the food? After all, it might be poisoned.”

“Well, then I would have no choice but to come after my duty and try the food, wouldn’t I? We don’t want you to die on your first day here, and it is my job to care for you.”

Obi-Wan grinned at the answer, picking up a piece of bread to rip the edge off and hold it to Anakin’s mouth, who carefully ate it from his hand. Anakin couldn't hide the groan that vibrated through his chest at how good it tasted, but quickly cleared his throat to say “It seems to be fine, definitely not poisoned. You should be good to eat it.”

Of course it wasn’t poisoned, he would have known that without having to try it, since he’d watched it be made that afternoon. However, after an offer like that, he had been unable to refuse. He couldn’t remember when he had last eaten food this good, Jabba really didn't skimp on his guests.

And that is how their meal continued, Obi-Wan feeding Anakin some of the food while adamantly trying not to think of the sounds it was pulling out of Anakin before trying it himself and so they slowly worked their way through all of the plates laid out in front of them until they were too full to eat anything more.

Obi-Wan was rather satisfied with how well his idea had worked out, having gotten Anakin to eat without breaking any rules and was all around quite happy in that moment, especially when Anakin happily announced how full he felt. It was almost funny to see him like this, acting more their age and less like personified sin. Obi-Wan hoped it was a sign, Anakin felt comfortable to be himself around the Jedi, though he didn’t quite know _why_ that was so important to him.

It felt monumental then and there, the two of them alone in the small room, like a turning point in history, a now or never.

Leaning against the frame of the bed, Obi-Wan sighed, before saying, “I almost didn't become a Jedi, you know.” He didn't know what compelled him to say that of all things, but it felt right to be sharing with this stranger with the bluest eyes.

Anakin made an inquiring noise, his Force signature lighting up with something akin to interest, before confessing something of his own in turn. “I've been a slave all my life.” Obi-Wan had suspected something of the like with how casually he had talked about it, but the news still hit him like a punch to the gut, anger curling in behind it, sharp and vengeful.

_A Jedi shouldn’t feel like that,_ his mind supplied helpfully. _But a Jedi also usually wasn’t faced with this injustice, one which we are said to purge from the galaxy as so called peacekeepers,_ his spite replied acidly.

They went on confessing like this for what felt like an hour at least, finding comfort in the mutual sharing of two souls so different and from other ends of the galaxy.

“I watched my Master die.” Blood, the smell of burnt flesh, wet gasping, _so much pain._

_"I watched my mother die.”_ Broken bones, wavering smiles, soft bloodied hands, _so much pain._

“I shouldn't have been knighted so early.” An ache in his chest, sympathetic faces, the crackling of a saber so close to his ear it sent his face awash in blue light, a braid lying flat in his hand. 

Each confession landed like a blow, rattling the ribs of two innocent young men, who had seen too much, lived too much, hurt too much. Where a heaviness lifted from the shoulders of one, it settled around the other in a shroud of _anger._

_“I have never been off Tatooine.”_ Endless deserts, burning heat, cruelty that carved itself into the lines of one’s skin. 

“I was the first to kill a Sith in over a thousand years.” Red and black skin, sickly yellow eyes, a snarling feral grin full of arrogance. _We’re not so different, you and I,_ as he fell. 

_“I lost my hand to tusken raiders.”_

At that Obi-Wan looked over to see Anakin loosen the buckles on the black leather glove he wore on one hand, to reveal a black and gold cybernetic arm beneath. “I only got this replacement, because Jabba feared I would become useless with only one hand, that I couldn't do my job without it,” he admitted quietly, a mirthless chuckle following the words. 

Obi-Wan’s heart broke anew for the young man. He couldn't imagine spending his entire life belonging to someone else with no free will, only to lose a part of himself to the same place he'd lost his freedom to. _Couldn't he?_ He felt like he already knew Anakin better than he would say of most of his friends back on Coruscant, simply by virtue of their situation. By the Force humming between them. 

Carefully, he reached out to trace a finger over the cybernetic joints, reverence in the delicate movement. “I don’t think you’re any less of a person for it,” he told him, voice quiet but firm as grey-blue eyes flicker up to meet blue. The double meaning of the statement rang out unsaid between them and Anakin’s cybernetic fingers pressed against his briefly. 

The Force was a halo of sorrow and heartache around them, knitting their signatures together in quiet solidarity for what the other had lived through. The thread of anger ever present, vengeful and denied, it sat between them. Neither said anything about it, while Anakin pulled the glove back over his mechanical fingers. 

They both sat in silence, letting their thoughts drift through the events they had recounted themselves and just learned of. 

Obi-Wan imagined a twelve year old Anakin watching as his mother breathed her last breath, imagined the insurmountable amounts of grief rattling between his small ribs and how somehow, despite everything he was still the beautifully confident person Obi-Wan had met today. 

Anakin in turn imagined a seven year old Obi-Wan desperately hoping for a master that would take him on, teach him and make him the Jedi he had always wanted to be, _the Jedi he had no choice but to become._ He imagined the fear clawing at Obi-Wan’s heart like a vicious massiff, how in the end it had somehow still worked out and had led to their meeting. 

“I’m supposed to sleep here tonight,” Anakin eventually broke the silence with a soft sigh. Strangely enough, he didn’t feel as apprehensive of that fact anymore as he had when Jabba had first sent him off with Obi-Wan. _Another arrogant “apostle of peace”_ had turned into _Obi-Wan, the man with copper hair and scars on his freckled skin, the man with power dancing at his fingertips._

Picking at a loose thread on his tunic top, he glanced a look at Obi-Wan, some of the original confidence cooled to be less overbearing, less alluring, a lot more _him._ “I can sleep on the floor, I’m just supposed to watch over you, I guess,” he added with a shrug and a quirk of his lips. 

Obi-Wan answered with a small grin of his own, replying, “But what if the bed is a trap? You should best test it before I go to sleep there, and once you’re already lying down ‒ the bed is big enough for two, is it not?” It was a continuation of their previous game at dinnertime, but the question held an open vulnerability to it, a _‘You don’t have to if you don’t want to,’_ that rang out in the Force between them. 

Maybe people did have a point in calling him _the Negotiator,_ not only could his silver tongue talk him out of the searing burn of a blaster bolt in his chest, it could also talk people into exactly what he wanted them to do. Call it a gift, call it a curse, _he knew how to talk._

It felt strangely rebellious to be sharing a bed without using it for the purpose they were supposed to use it for and the feeling filled them both with quiet satisfaction. An unspoken agreement spun between them, to make this work for both of them without letting Jabba catch on. It was the fragile beginning of something new, hope perhaps, the winds of change. 

Anakin was the first to move, once it was obvious Obi-Wan would let him make this decision without interfering, and walked over to the bed. The empty dishes, which had still sat on the floor, neatly stacked themselves next to the door at a flick of his wrist, that punched an audible gasp out of Obi-Wan. His control over the Force was so much stronger than the Jedi had ever anticipated, and it was infatuating in its careless grace. An improper use of the Force, as the Council would say, _and wasn’t it absolutely breathtakingly beautiful?_

He could see Anakin’s grin in the dim haze of blue they had been left with once they had turned the overhead lights off, once again that predatory quirk of his lips that showed too many teeth. _Lothcat ‒ radiantly angry and powerful young man,_ Obi-Wan was beginning to forget what the difference was. It was a dangerous game to play, but he did so anyway. He may be able to talk well, but he’d never claimed to be anything but recklessly attached to his instincts. 

And so with a smile of his own, Obi-Wan climbed into bed next to him, only after setting his clothes on the floor, which had previously occupied the space. He took care to set his lightsaber under the first layer of cloth, so it was hidden from view but easy to reach. 

Anakin, watching him with interest, softly remarked “Scared I will hurt you in the night, _master Jeedai?”_ with his strangely melodic voice, an amused edge in his tone. Obi-Wan shook his head with a chuckle as he made himself comfortable, trying not to think too much about their close proximity. 

How was this any different than sharing a cot with his fellow Jedi because of limited space? He didn’t dare answer the question truthfully, images of sun-kissed bronze skin and hungry stares flooding his mind in an instant, which he shut down as ruthlessly as he always had. 

_There is no passion, there is serenity,_ his mind tiredly recited ‒ desperately, achingly reminding him of all he strived towards. _The perfect Jedi._

“Don’t you think it appropriate, you call me Obi-Wan and not master Jedi, _Anakin?_ We will be spending quite some time together after all.” 

He pretended to not notice the hitch of breath that came from Anakin at his name being spoken so quietly in the dark of the night, _so intimately._ Obi-Wan didn’t want to think, when the last time was, someone had said his name without malcontent, someone that hadn’t been his mother. 

“Fine- _Obi-Wan,_ are you scared I will hurt you in the night?” 

The amusement was still evident in his tone, but rather than being the only present emotion, it was laced with something like fondness. A concept, Obi-Wan was achingly familiar with and dreading at the same time. 

“Not at all, I just prefer being prepared for any occasion that may arise. After all, this weapon is my life and so having it close is comforting.” His words carried the voice of a man long dead, of long dark hair and a circular burn wound in his chest. They weren’t his words after all, rather burnt into his mind by his master’s insistence. 

Anakin didn’t seem to pick up on the sorrow crackling through his words, or if he did, he didn’t mention it, much to Obi-Wan’s relief. However, he did sit up to loosen the clasp at the bottom of his top to tug it over his chest and off onto the floor, boots following closely after. 

Once only in the soft cloth pants and the one black glove, he looked up at Obi-Wan with an endearing mix of defiant challenge and worry etched into his pretty features. “You don’t mind, do you? Leather is rather uncomfortable to sleep in,” his voice was soft, something to be attributed to the stillness of the night, wreathed in dim blue light and the cold of the desert. 

Obi-Wan only nodded his acceptance, not daring to comment on the leather collar still wrapped around Anakin’s throat in fear of shattering this fragile trust they had established. He should definitely sleep, if his mind was already implicitly implying he trusted this young man blindly. 

He may be wrought with exhaustion, but he knew it wasn’t the shroud of night that made him trust this man. It wasn’t the bone-deep exhaustion gnawing at his skin, and it wasn’t the food he had brought. _Trust the living Force,_ Qui-Gon had told him over and over again, and that was exactly what he was doing. _He trusted Anakin because the Force sang when he was around the nebula of emotion that was him._

He only noticed they had been lying in silence, when Anakin uttered a quiet “Good night, Obi-Wan,” and Obi-Wan tried his best not to think of how careful his mouth sounded forming his name. _Oh, he was going to have such a problem, once he left. It wasn’t the first time,_ he reminded himself, _it wouldn’t be the last._

“Good night, Anakin." 

Despite his exhaustion, the phrase was empty. Listening to the man’s breath deepen beside him after only minutes, the Force calming around him into a state of serenity, his mind conjured up images most unwelcome. All because of that one thought. 

_The Duchess, his master. So many of the Clones. His parents._

People he’d lost. People, that had left him. People, he had been forced to leave. 

So occupied with his own thoughts, Obi-Wan didn’t notice how much he was projecting his sorrow and anger into the Force, until the body next to him stirred sleepily. 

“Stop thinking so loud, sleep, _winkee ateema, Obii,”_ he mumbled quietly, making Obi-Wan chuckle softly as suddenly, the world didn’t seem so heavy anymore. He didn’t know what the Huttese meant Anakin had drifted off into in the end, but the endearment did wonders to disperse the dark clouds clawing at his thoughts. 

With a sigh, he shifted in place one more time to a more comfortable position before closing his eyes and letting his thoughts drift on the currents of the Force, some of which he was fairly sure were emitting from Anakin. He must’ve never learned proper shielding on a rather Force-blind planet like Tatooine, he mused, before letting the thought drift with all the rest. 

It was nice, this proximity, this warmth. A solid, heavy body next to his, warm skin pressing into his at times, when Anakin shifted. The steady breathing of a kindred soul only inches away from his own face. His eyes opened once again on their own accord, to look at his face. He looked younger, when he slept. More peaceful, less shark-toothed and rough around the edges. Obi-Wan didn’t know if he liked it or not. 

He knew, that if Anakin were to open his eyes, he would be greeted with the same radiant stormy blue, that had first ensnared him. The bluest of blue eyes, and he couldn’t quite stop thinking about them. About how the edges crinkled when Anakin grinned. 

_There is no passion, there is serenity._

_There is serenity._

_How can there be serenity when there’s a storm sleeping in the Force next to him and all he wants to do is lose himself to it?_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, do you think the Jedi Code will keep Obi-Wan safe for much longer? Do you think the Code is right?
> 
> See y'all next time!


	4. Of anything bare that's made of gold

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Mornings happen and halos appear, nothing seems all that real.
> 
> Events transpire, and Obi-Wan is left conflicted and breathless.
> 
> _Will he ever escape his own guilt and shame?_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Once again, a lot of begging my muse to behave led to this. No idea if it even makes sense, but I hope it does.
> 
> Chapter title is from the song 'Gold' by Nick Murphy.
> 
> I couldn't get the image of Obi-Wan in the light of the morning suns out of my head, so do with that information what you will.
> 
> I also seem to be adding more and more cursive, sorry if it's bothering anyone!

Waking up was much like rising from the depth of a lake, calm water cradling him and pleasantly at peace. Obi-Wan lay in blissful quiet for a moment longer before electing to open his eyes and see where he found himself slowly drifting up from unconsciousness.

Sun filtered through the transparisteel windows as he sat up and rubbed his eyes, his body jumping back into the alertness of a year spent at the frontlines in a rush of awareness all along his skin where it was touched by cloth and air. Looking around the room, he spotted Anakin leaning in the doorway, a mirror image of the night before as he once again was fully dressed.

He had a look on his face, Obi-Wan couldn’t read. If he wasn’t so scared of his own heart, he would describe it as _reverent._

Anakin had been waiting for Obi-Wan to wake up, he himself had done so hours ago once the first sun had risen over the horizon. He had only come back once he was done conferring with Jabba and helping to prepare the meal for later, now with a bowl of fruit in his hands.

He had wanted to - and was tasked with - being there when Obi-Wan woke up, but he hadn’t been prepared for the _sight_ of it. How radiant the Jedi would look bathed in the golden glow of the morning suns, making his hair flame up in shades of copper and gold.

The light spilled over his skin, illuminating freckles and scars alike. And Anakin had never believed in the tales of the Jedi being peacekeepers bestowed with a higher power, but he just might now. There was something decidedly holy about the gleam of his hair, like a flaming halo around his head.

Obi-Wan cleared his throat, which seemingly snapped Anakin back to reality, because he offered up the bowl of fruit. “I brought breakfast. Jabba wants to see you soon,” he informed him in lieu of a good morning, walking over to sit down on the bed next to Obi-Wan.

The Jedi gave a smile at the breakfast, stretching languidly before taking the bowl from Anakin only to offer him some of the fruit, too. Anakin declined, too distracted with how beautiful he had looked stretching. Besides, he never ate in the mornings, simply didn’t have the luxury of doing so.

Instead, he watched Obi-Wan eat, a small smile on his face at how the Jedi’s hair was sticking up in all different directions. The light helped wonderfully accentuate the red in his hair and he found himself wanting to run his hands through it but kept them to himself.

Obi-Wan could feel heat crawling up his neck at Anakin’s intent stare, not used to being the singular focus of someone’s attention. Especially not someone, who stared as openly, frequently and _hungrily_ as Anakin did. He felt like he was caught in a game of prey and predator, he was _prey_ and he felt _hunted._

The self-satisfied smirk on Anakin’s face at the blush spreading on the Jedi’s face was soon replaced by the realisation, they were going back to business soon. The realisation that their little bubble of safety wouldn’t- couldn’t last and his smile dropped suddenly.

Obi-Wan broke through the silence and Anakin’s thoughts by asking “So, how long have you known how to use the Force?”

His tone of voice was carefully casual as he refused to meet his eyes, a current of tension evident in the line of his shoulders, in the bow of his head, buzzing around him in the Force.

Anakin shrugged, open and relaxed. “I’ve always known it was there. It calls to me sometimes, shows me things, helps me. Comes natural to use it, I guess,” he admitted after a pause of consideration. “I’ve never viewed it as something _to use,_ really. It’s more of a-” he found himself searching for a word, that didn’t let itself be translated properly. _Pinii._ A certain sense of companionship.

“I respect it, and it does me. We help each other, I think. It seems to like me,” he ended with a grin, eyeing the Jedi with a raised brow.

Obi-Wan huffed out a breath, shaking his head incredulously. “Years and years of training, and you claim you know how to do it, because the Force _wants you to._ Unbelievable.”

Anakin did however notice the tension bleed out of him just a little, his shoulders slumping a fraction and was met with grey-blue eyes shortly after. The Force swirled between them happily, humming as if part of their conversation.

“It does like you, the Force I mean. I can _sense it._ How it moves around you, how bright you are in it.” He shook his head again, but there was no malice in his tone, no ill-will. _He sounded amused._

The conformation made Anakin smile and he let out a soft laugh. “Well, at least someone does,” prompting an answering laugh in return. The _‘It’s not the only one’_ Obi-Wan wanted to say hung precariously in the Force, almost out of his mouth. But he wasn’t quite ready to admit it yet. He still had to contact the council about it, he reminded himself, souring the good mood.

The thought reminded him of his actual mission, abruptly getting up and cutting the conversation there. _What was he thinking?! He had a job to do, for Force’s sake._

“Right, I should better get ready then, if Jabba is waiting,” he cut in, accompanied by a nod towards the door. He wouldn’t outright kick Anakin out, but he needed some time alone right now, to not only get ready but also to shake the feeling of becoming _too familiar_ with someone.

Taken aback by the sudden shift in mood, Anakin didn’t protest but instead stammered a “Right, I’ll- I’ll be waiting outside.” He got off the bed without looking at the Jedi, taking the bowl with him to set down next to the door as he made his way out of the room.

Obi-Wan stared at the closed door for all of ten seconds, before letting out a long breath. He needed to meditate. On this, specifically. But there was no damn time to be had, if he was supposed to get negotiations started, the suns had crawled way over the horizon already. He couldn’t shake the feeling that he had somehow made things worse. But that was nonsense, they barely knew each other, right?

Shaking his head in annoyance at himself - of course there was nothing wrong, what was he thinking -, he went to get dressed and used the ‘fresher. It only took him five minutes before he was ready, and making sure his lightsaber was securely clipped onto his belt and hidden beneath his outer tunic, he stepped out of his room.

Anakin was leant up against the opposite wall, arms crossed in front of his chest and looking equal parts overbearingly alluring and angry. Once he spotted Obi-Wan though, his features smoothed over with a pleasant smile and he nodded in the direction they had come from the night before. If he hadn’t noticed the shift in his Force signature, Obi-Wan thought he might as well have imagined the flash of annoyance on the other’s face.

“Ready to go?”

Nodding, Obi-Wan followed him through the same dark durasteel corridors and stairs. He was confused by what the Force was telling him, Anakin’s signature - usually so spiralling and open - was tightly wrapped around him and held close to his body. Almost like an attempt at shielding that Obi-Wan didn’t understand and the Force wouldn’t yield any answers either. He hadn’t been lying, the Force _loved_ Anakin.

He pushed the thoughts away once they reached the main chamber, a lot less packed due to it being morning, but nonetheless he could feel eyes following him as he moved. He wondered if he would ever get used to the feeling of being watched.

Jabba was once again sat on his throne, the golden droid standing off to his left. It was quite a similar picture to the night before, with the difference that there was more light and less outlaws, much to Obi-Wan’s relief.

It got even more eerily similar when Anakin gave up his position at Obi-Wan’s side to go kneel at Jabba’s feet again. His face was unreadable to Obi-Wan. There truly couldn’t be a stronger reminder of where the young man’s allegiances - forced or not - truly lay. He was still part of the Hutt’s entourage, _he wasn’t his._

_“Master Jedi! I do hope you slept well, have you not?”_

The droid’s basic once again didn’t allow for much of a tonal range, but Jabba dropping his eyes to the kneeling Anakin suggestively conveyed his meaning well enough. Anger curled tight in Obi-Wan’s gut and he tightened his shields in the Force, not wanting to project it onto Anakin and potentially put him in danger.

“Good morning, great Jabba the Hutt. Sleep well, I most certainly did, but you and I both know, that’s not why I’m here,” he replied smoothly, a charming smile finding its way onto his face without even trying. He had had years of practice of not letting his emotions show, this was no exception.

The Hutt chuckled at his words, a noise that even then managed to sound condescending and grated on the Jedi’s nerves. Obi-Wan hated this already, and he knew it was only the beginning.

_“Yes, yes, let us discuss the treaty. So, you want into Hutt-controlled space. What are you willing to offer in return?”_

Obi-Wan was once again left wondering if he was really not getting too tired of these sort of missions. Sometimes it was just _so much easier_ when you knew who the enemy was and all you had to negotiate over was _how quickly_ they were going to lose their heads. He never thought he was going to miss being on the frontlines, but there was a certain satisfaction to be found in the smooth slide of his ‘saber through the unforgiving screech of metal bodies.

Grinding his teeth but staying perfectly calm outwardly, he started explaining “Well, the Republic has a lot to offer to the great Jabba the Hutt, I believe.” That was a blatant lie. Obi-Wan had found lying had become a lot more socially acceptable in times of war. Apparently, some causes 'justified' any means possible.

To him, lying came as natural as breathing despite his image as the perfect Jedi. Really, he was just good with words. And so, he began lying through his teeth about all the great things the Republic would have to offer to the biggest crime syndicate since Crimson Dawn. Revoking his criminal status, alliances in times of need, raw spice, troops they didn’t have. Anything, to get those routes.

Negotiations went on for hours, and Obi-Wan could feel his feet starting to ache from standing. Apparently Hutt courtesy didn’t involve chairs and he was somehow beyond caring.

The only breaks he seemed to get were once to eat and some, in which Jabba discussed things with his advisors in Huttese for several minutes.

Negotiations always had a tendency to make time appear meaningless in how quickly it passed.

* * *

They hadn’t gotten anywhere. Jabba had called off the discussions in favour of announcing the evening banquet, that Obi-Wan had no choice but to be a part of. It would be rather rude to decline after having discussed political topics for most of the day.

Getting to see Jabba’s throne in action was remarkable really and with how tired he was, Obi-Wan had to bite back an inappropriate peel of laughter. Sometimes he wondered if Jabba realized how ridiculous he looked in everything he did, simply by virtue of that charming personality mixed with those looks. How could anyone take him seriously? He sounded like a _child_ when he talked.

He was led through the door at the end of the main hall, only to be led into another one where a table seemed to be a permanent resident. So he hadn’t been joking when he had said banquet. But Obi-Wan had a feeling this would be very different from any and all formal banquets he had ever attended.

Once again, no effort had been made to touch up the dark durasteel walls, but synth torches did a good job at lighting up the room. It still carried the slightly seedy feel the rest of the palace had, too, and he didn’t know if it was because of how it had been built or by virtue of the people living there. He didn’t think he wanted to find out.

Jabba took his place at the head of the table, gesturing for Obi-Wan to sit on his left, which he begrudgingly did. The table was slowly filling with other people, some of them he recognised from the day before, others he didn’t. They all, without fail, looked like they would be more at home in one of the seedy nightclubs on the lower levels of Coruscant and they were just as loud and vulgar to match.

Obi-Wan was mostly glad to get off his feet for a bit, but he was starting to miss the easy company of the 212th and Cody, the rational and familial lilt of their jokes and way of speaking. He hated having to go out on his own, missing his battalion now in the company of Outlaws and the Galaxy’s scum. He startled out of his thoughts when he felt a hand curl around his ankle. Surely, Jabba wouldn’t be this stupid about trying to rob a Jedi-

The thought was abruptly cut off when Obi-Wan looked down to see Anakin kneeling at his side, his flesh hand curled where Obi-Wan had felt it. The young man had the audacity to wink at him, making Obi-Wan smile. How had anyone ever managed to tame this radiant storm with skin?

Suddenly the ache for the Ghost Company wasn’t as bad anymore.

Intentionally loosening his shields just a fraction, he brushed up against Anakin’s Force signature, just to see him smile. It didn’t fail, but he didn’t have much time to mirror it, distracted by the protocol droid’s voice. He hadn’t been paying attention to the Huttese being spoken around him, so it caught him off guard.

It had translated Jabba’s words to explain to him, that once again Anakin had been assigned to him. To _serve_ him, specifically. He still hated the sound of that.

And before he could really process what it even meant, Anakin moved from his position at his feet. In unison with what must have been a dozen or so slaves, as Obi-Wan noticed.

He watched them leave, only for them to come back with platters of all kinds of food. There were Tatooinian foods, similar to what his meal had been the night before, but there were also delicacies that had to be important from other planets. He had to say, he was rather impressed by the gross display of wealth.

Though still thoroughly disgusted at the treatment of the slaves, as he saw one of the people at the table slap one of the slaves’s backside so hard, they stumbled and almost fell. Obi-Wan’s hand curled into a fist, where it lay on his thigh, jaw tightening when the Twi’lek was only laughed and sneered at when they quickly set their tray of food down.

He only relaxed slightly, when Anakin’s hand settled back on his ankle. At least, _he_ was safe, for now.

Being forced to make conversation with people he loathed was something he was thoroughly used to, but that didn’t mean he had to like it.

Jabba had banned all talk about the treaty, and was mostly interested in hearing of Obi-Wan’s tales from heroic off-world battles. He was happy to oblige, a master in making blood, rain, near death experiences and despair sound like the greatest things in history. They weren’t.

The frontlines were horrible, and yet he couldn’t help but miss them over this. Anything was better than this.

He ate when offered, but nothing - not even the possibility of the treaty being shattered - stopped him from glancing down at Anakin with a little smirk on his face as he mouthed _“Food might be poisoned.”_ It was accompanied by his hand sneaking below the table to offer him some of the food.

Obi-Wan didn’t miss the roll of the young man’s eyes as he took the food from Obi-Wan’s hand with careful, measured movements. He still caught Anakin’s smile nonetheless, it was beautiful.

He continued to entertain Jabba and his men with stories of the battlefield, making things up more than actually retelling, but no one could prove him otherwise. Whenever no one was looking at him, he would sneak a bite of food down for Anakin, because he had a strong suspicion, he wouldn’t get anything to eat otherwise and Obi-Wan wouldn’t let him starve.

Obi-Wan startled badly when instead of a hand like before, a wet mouth enclosed his fingers. He looked down to see Anakin smirking at him, licking his lips like a damn self-satisfied gundark. It was ridiculous in how _sinful_ it looked.

From then on, every bite Obi-Wan managed to sneak below the table got eaten in increasingly more suggestive ways until Anakin was quite literally licking Obi-Wan’s fingers after every bite. He was uncomfortably hot and he knew _exactly_ why that was the case.

He was counting down the minutes until it would be respectable to leave, while Anakin was definitely having the time of his life. _It was just too much fun to play with the Jedi._

Anakin grinned at that thought. His mother would be so disappointed right then and there, after all - he wasn’t supposed to play with his food. She had told him so multiple times, and he would gladly just eat Obi-Wan right up.

Obi-Wan thanked the Force and about fifteen deities, he had picked up on his travels, when everyone appeared to have finished eating and Jabba called the slaves to carry away the empty plates. He watched Anakin rise and leave with the others, trying not to stare at the sway of his hips only to be elbowed by the person sitting on his left with a lewd smirk on his face.

The Jedi rolled his eyes and shook his head at the inebriated Weequay sitting next to him, disgusted at the person’s obvious belief they were in any way similar. The familiar shame of _not being the Jedi he knew he should be_ rose inside of him, sour as bile and vanishing all the arousal that had taken space in his gut before.

_What was he thinking?_

Anakin came back, still tasked with watching over Obi-Wan and his eyes sparkled with that same mix of mischievous arousal and hunger.

_Oh, this was bad. This was so bad._

Obi-Wan abruptly stood up from the table, thankfully none of the attention on him anymore as the others, too, started to filter back out into the main hall. He could still feel one particular pair of eyes burning into his back though, and it made him go hot and cold all over.

He didn’t look back when he half-heartedly said goodbye to Jabba and wound his ways through the masses, but he knew Anakin was following him either way. _Like a predator stalking its prey._

Knowing the way to his temporary rooms by now, Obi-Wan weaved through the people mulling about in the main hall at the least conspicuous pace he could manage until he was taking the stairs up to his room two at a time.

Anakin was close enough behind him now that he could feel his breath at the back of his neck and it sent shivers down his spine, pushing him to walk faster as he made his way along the corridor.

Once at the door, he pushed the button for it to open and slipped through, Anakin following close behind. The door barely had time to close behind them when Anakin had turned on him and was crowding him against it.

_Oh, he was so karked._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This will get a little Nsfw in the next Chapter, but I will put a warning in the beginning notes. 
> 
> See you guys next time!
> 
> Once again, if anyone wants my playlist - just ask!


	5. And am I just not what you want

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hearts shatter, almost audible in the still breathless waiting of the night.
> 
> _Nothing makes sense and everything aches._
> 
> Maybe there is no happy end after all. Maybe there is.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **Warning for the slightest of slight nsfw at the beginning of the Chapter**
> 
> Uuuuuuh I'm tired, sorry for the angst. It just kinda. happened. 
> 
> Obi-Wan is a stubborn idiot, whose own inner turmoil will tear him apart at some point, I swear.
> 
> Edit: Chapter title is from the song 'Banks' by Lincoln. (Sorry I keep forgetting to put it, damn it.)

Anakin was on him in an instant, all controlled grace and black cloth. It was just as heady as it was alarming and only then could he smell the rich scent of Japor wood that clung to him. It was spicy and earthy and so, so alluring. He wanted to bury his nose in his tunics and inhale his scent, but he wouldn’t be a Jedi if he didn’t at least have a little self control. Keyword being _a little._

Obi-Wan wasn’t sure he was strong enough to resist temptation if it presented itself as a six foot mass of limbs currently pressing him up against the durasteel door at his back. 

_Especially not,_ when Anakin’s mouth descended onto his and he was kissing his breath away in a harsh display of _want._ He would deny the groan stuck in his throat for eternity to come, but the desire was undeniable. Oh, he _wanted._ Nothing in his life compared to the heat of Anakin’s mouth on his and he wanted nothing more than to give himself up to it.

Anakin kissed like he did anything in life, full of passion and anger and _Force,_ Obi-Wan was growing dizzy. 

He was well and truly caged in between his arms, Anakin’s skin radiating heat like the desert itself and he felt like he might burn alive if he stayed any longer. At the same time, he wanted nothing more but to drown in the liquid heat and the shape of his red mouth.

Obi-Wan knew that he was frozen in shock, mouth gone lax under Anakin’s insistent tongue and he needed to end this now _or he never would._

Several minutes passed of his mouth having a mind of its own, kissing back like it would drown if he didn’t. There was something decidedly enticing about doing something he knew he shouldn’t, feeling wonderfully drugged on the feel of Anakin’s teeth digging into his bottom lip and the heat pulsing low in his spine. 

_Force,_ he had forgotten how good it felt to let his instincts take over. 

_How sweet failure could taste._

Only when Anakin stepped closer to slot a leg between both of the Jedi’s , did Obi-Wan come back to himself enough to resist and lay a hand flat on Anakin’s chest to push. Anakin relented by mere inches, so close he could still feel his breath ghosting over his lips, could see the state of Anakin’s kiss-red mouth. 

_“Anakin!”_

Obi-Wan didn’t quite mean for his voice to sound that breathless, and the stern tone did nothing to hide it. He hiked his shields up a little higher around himself, making sure that none of his conflicting arousal seeped out into the Force where Anakin would undoubtedly notice it. 

The heat in his gut curled like an angry beast, insistent and fiery, but he was nothing if not stubborn and so he pushed it down, ignoring it. _He knew how to do this, how to deny himself._

He watched, rapt, as Anakin’s eyes opened to stare at him. They were still so insanely blue, like the lakes of Naboo, only now his pupils were blown wide, swallowing the colour greedily. It was a good look on him, giving weight to his perpetual hunger and making him just about the most beautiful thing Obi-Wan had even seen. _And he’d seen a lot._

Nothing compared to this child of the dunes, this desert-born maelstrom of the Force. _He wanted to kiss him again, wanted to press his mouth against that throat until their hearts beat together as one._

Instead, Obi-Wan took a deep breath, bracing himself for what was to come and let the good Jedi Knight Kenobi take over. This was his duty, his mission and he couldn’t jeopardize this by getting entangled with Anakin. Not anymore, than he already was, anyways. 

No matter how much his heart howled and thrashed, this was _not_ what he had been sent here to do. He knew his heart already hung on this beautiful child of the Force more than it should ever have.

“I can’t do this, not with you, _not here!_ I’m a Jedi, I’m not allowed to-”

It sounded like a lie even to his ears. He may be good with words, but he has never been good with emotions and so his words sounded hollow. Not even _Kenobi the Negotiator_ could save him now. His heart had won this round.

_There is no passion, there is serenity._

He wondered how often he could say that particular line of the Code until it lost all meaning. It already sounded dangerously meaningless to his ears. A lot more meaningless than the prayers of his heart, than the promises of the liquid heat in his gut, hissing at him to _give in._

“You don’t want me?”

Anakin’s voice was raw, slicing through him more painfully than a saber ever could and the look in his eyes was almost too much to handle. _He looked so hurt._

“That’s not- I _can’t,_ Anakin!” Obi-Wan was stammering and he knew he was, his voice a cross between strangled and aching. It felt like he was dragging his vocal chords over sandpaper, but in reality all he was doing was telling the truth. What a peculiar thing, the truth, what a tragic, tragic thing.

All traces of mischief or amusement had been wiped from Anakin’s eyes and all he could read was betrayal. He wanted the happiness back, the carefree grin from earlier or even the ever hungry smirk from just then, but that’s not how being a Jedi worked. He had already karked this up beyond recognition, there was no going back now. He couldn’t have this.

The Force was buzzing agitatedly around them, a jagged halo of fire and ice, betrayal and pain. He doubted he had ever seen it so _alive_ before.

Anakin took a step back and suddenly Obi-Wan felt very cold, like all the heat had been sucked right out of him. 

“You don’t want me.” Anakin repeated the words, but it wasn’t a question anymore. The look of raw and utter betrayal was wiped away in a dangerous swell of the Force, replaced by a look so icy, it made the hairs on Obi-Wan’s nape stand on end. 

It sounded like an accusation, one Obi-Wan was all too aware of. _He had been leading him on._ But no matter how much they both wanted this, it couldn’t happen. It was forbidden by the code, he knew that and a small part of him had hoped, that _maybe._

But he realized now, he couldn’t have this. Not if he wanted to stay a Jedi. 

No matter how much he tried to tell himself that, it didn’t seem to get through to the part of him that was still recoiling from the look on Anakin’s face.

His back was even now pressed against the warming durasteel, digging into his shoulder blades and where it had been arousing before, it was uncomfortable now. Everything was. 

“I should go sleep,” he told Anakin, not looking him in the eye as he carefully made his way over to the bed. Anakin was out of his way the moment he moved, like he couldn’t stand the idea of being close to him anymore. Obi-Wan would deny how much it hurt until he had used up all his words and was left entirely breathless, to choke on his own principles. 

He hated how small his skin felt all of a sudden, how tense the air around them was and he swore, he could almost hear the Force crackling with tension. There was no way he could sleep, not like this. He didn't want to sleep like this, already missing the warm press of skin on his before he had even lain down.

Obi-Wan was glad for the dim light, because with Anakin further away it was harder to see the expression on his face. That meant he didn’t have to see the betrayal etched into every line of his skin anymore. It didn’t really matter, because it had already burned itself into his memory, flaming to life when he closed his eyes. Another reason not to sleep then.

He noticed Anakin settling on the floor near the door Obi-Wan had vacated and he frowned. “What are you doing?” There was confusion evident in his tone, but he hovered short of sitting down, refusing to lie down and make himself vulnerable quite yet. 

The force was an ever-present raging wildfire around him and he knew it was emitting from Anakin, who was mercilessly stoking the flames with his insurmountable anger. He seemed to have endless amounts of it rattling around in the fragile cage of his bones, so much _rage_ it gathered around him now in a dark cloud. 

“I’m lying down to go to sleep, what else does it look like?” 

Anakin’s voice was still just as icy, an edge of annoyance now palpable and cutting, like embers to a flame. Obi-Wan hated how it sounded, how it cut right through his layers of defence and left him _raw_ and _aching._

The least he could do was give up the bed, if Anakin refused to be anywhere near him, he had to give him that at least. He deserved to have a good bed to sleep in and Obi-Wan was used to sleeping on hard surfaces anyways.

Anything, for the angel of fire and death he refused to let close.

Shifting, he curled his own shields tighter against the storm of _anger, hurt, betrayal, **hurt**_ emitting from the young man. And then he moved forward, into the proverbial fire to its very centre: Anakin. 

"Get up," he urged softly, voice resigned and quiet - a counterpoint to Anakin's chaos.

"Why?" came the question, confused and as if, for a second, he had forgotten that he was supposed to be angry. He sounded on just this side of the little boy he must have once been. If possible, it made Obi-Wan's heart ache even more. 

"You're taking the bed, I'll sleep on the floor." Obi-Wan had a way with his tone of voice, too, could harden it to steel when needed and make even the toughest Commanders under him obey without a second thought. It worked this time, too. 

Anakin rose from the floor, only to freeze when he came up directly before Obi-Wan. They were mere inches apart. Obi-Wan wanted to kiss him so badly, it made his breath stutter in his chest. He licked his lips. Anakin's eyes tracked the motion. The Force curled tighter around them, expectant.

Obi-Wan was leaning in. He only noticed when their lips were almost touching, breaths mingling and eyes fixed on one another.

Everything seemed to grind to a halt, their breathing, the world around them, time itself. A breathless, weightless moment, insignificant in history and yet significant in every way that mattered.

Obi-Wan jerked away. Anakin's eyes darkened, their blue so dark it almost seemed black in the dim light. He turned away and Obi-Wan lay down, resigning himself to his fate. 

He didn't bother getting undressed, turning away from where he could hear Anakin's harsh breathing in the quiet of the room and closing his eyes, willing his thoughts to calm. Like he had done so many times before, he calmed into a state of light meditation to try and rid himself of the thoughts and emotions plaguing him but he couldn't seem to do it. 

Staring at the wall and losing himself to his thoughts appeared to be the only thing he was capable of, doubt and guilt tearing at his insides like hungry gundarks. 

_There is no emotion, there is peace. There is no emotion, there is peace._

_There is no emotion, there is no emotion, there is no emotion, no emotion._

He didn't think he would ever find sleep in his life ever again, with how viciously and mercilessly his thoughts were sinking their teeth into his heart.

Obi-Wan could hear Anakin tossing and turning, noting how the storm in the Force had never really calmed at all. Funny, how they were both sleepless and heartless and only a few feet apart, yearning for the other with a strength that could move mountains. 

It would be so easy to move over and lie down on him, to kiss him until they forgot how to breathe together, to kiss him until he forgot all about being angry and hurt, kiss him until he forgave. Obi-Wan wanted nothing more but to do just that. 

Resolve weakening, he sat up, about to go fulfill all the desires burning in his gut, each and every repressed _want_ before pausing and berating himself. Would he really throw away everything he had ever worked for, his entire _life,_ because of a momentary weakness? No. No, he wouldn't. 

He still had to contact the council. _Maybe he just didn't want to._

Lying back down with a barely audible sigh, Obi-Wan turned back around to face the wall, letting his eyes drift close to wait for morning.

* * *

He must have drifted off at some point, because when Obi-Wan came to, there was the same golden light of morning spilling into the room like it had the day before. Just now it wasn’t beautiful anymore. 

Anakin was nowhere to be seen, but awareness came a lot quicker and a lot more violent than it had before. In a shock of awareness, remorse and guilt rattling his already fragile ribcage. _He was so tired._

He hoped for a second the events of the night had only been a dream, but even that illusion was shattered when Anakin came in, noticed him being awake and then Obi-Wan had front row seats to seeing Anakin Skywalker's face fall from optimistically content into the same mask of hurt and stony silence it had been the night before.

Anakin was the first to break the silence, a hard edge to his usually so soft accent that made Obi-Wan feel like his chest was split open and oozing blood. It wasn’t, he confirmed when he looked down himself but sitting up brought the pain he was looking for, racing along his spine where it had contorted against the hard floor. They were minor aches, nothing he wasn’t used to, a lot more bearable than the current fire eating at his heart.

“I brought breakfast,” Anakin spoke, just like he had the day before as he handed over a plate of sweetened bread and fruit, but all the light had vanished from his voice. He wasn’t staring anymore, not like he had the night before. Obi-Wan never knew one could miss being watched. 

He once again offered some of the food to Anakin in a feeble attempt at a peace offering, a white flag in a blood-drenched field of heartbreak and betrayal. 

Anakin hesitated, a thread of light in the Force that made Obi-Wan want to reach out and pull him close, if only to see the blue of his eyes more clearly. His golden-haired guardian shook his head, declining his offer, but he did sit down beside him. They weren’t touching, but it was okay. It was a start. Obi-Wan could live with proximity, like the two stars gravitating around one another miles and miles overhead. Close, but never touching. 

Obi-Wan ate in silence, not daring to open his mouth and shatter the truce spun between them, delicate as glass. After a few minutes had passed - him eating, and Anakin gradually relaxing next to him, muscle for muscle loosening out of his defensive position - Anakin’s hand darted out to tear some of the bread and stick it into his mouth.

He was adamantly not looking at Obi-Wan while he chewed, but he didn’t have to. Obi-Wan’s desperately choked laugh rang out in the Force like the sound of a bell and Anakin’s answering smile may have been small and hidden by the tilt of his head, but it was there.

_Olive branch extended._

_Olive branch accepted._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I promise they will be okay. I just like angst, sorry.
> 
> Go listen to 'The Prologue' by Halsey, because it's a good song and I like Shakespeare.


	6. I said I don't know what to do anymore

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Obi-Wan has a way overdue chat with Mace Windu and proceeds to want to burn the entire galaxy to the ground for allowing this situation to exist in the first place.
> 
> Anakin and Obi-Wan bond over their anger issues without saying a word.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> pffffffffff I'm so sorry this damn chapter took so long. First I was pretty busy and didn't have time, then writer's block has been beating my ass over this chapter because I just didn't seem to get it right and NOW ao3 deleted my first draft of this soooooo I'm pretty much deadset on just uploading this dumb bitch before I go insane. 
> 
> I hope you guys like the chapter! xx
> 
> Chapter title is from the song 'Banks' by Lincoln, like the last one and probably the next one, too.

The morning went much the same as the one before did, him eating breakfast and then them making their way down to the great hall together for negotiations with Jabba. But somehow, nothing felt quite the same. Obi-Wan couldn’t stop _thinking,_ specifically about Anakin’s _mouth._ He was having a hard time focusing on the task at hand, but really he didn’t have to.

His mouth was working on its own, having done this so many times before and everything seemed to be working smoothly. Too smoothly. Jabba had apparently shifted completely from his position the day before, the droid now relaying agreements and actual _progress_ in the negotiations, and while he knew something was off, he couldn’t care less. If a problem presented itself, he would deal with it, but right now - he was getting the treaty he had been tasked with making, and so he really didn’t care _how._

His eyes kept flickering back to Anakin, kneeling with his head bowed and staring at his own hands. He couldn’t read his body language any more than he could read his Force signature, a mess of swirling emotions and confusing wants. 

For once, Obi-Wan was glad he couldn’t see those blue eyes, unsure of what he would find if he did. This was severely distracted, and yet somehow he had managed to keep himself focused enough to negotiate an actual functioning treaty with Jabba. He wasn’t sure _how_ he had managed it, but when they shook on it - Obi-Wan ignored the disgust rising in his chest at the feeling of Jabba’s skin and tightened his mental shields around himself - he realized that he had just managed the near impossible. 

He wasn’t sure if he should be proud, relieved or inherently suspicious. After brief contemplation he settled on proudly suspicious. It was, after all, what he did best. 

The negotiations had taken up less time now, than they had the night before. He still had time to contact the council - _finally, he was way overdue_ \- before the compulsory evening meal. To say he wasn’t looking forward to it, might perhaps be an understatement, he was dreading everything about it. 

At least he had good news for the council, he wasn’t coming with empty hands _(but an empty heart)._ Excusing himself from the Hall, he almost expected Anakin to follow but instead saw him talking to Jabba and a knife twisted painfully in his gut at the reminder. 

He was flanked by a Gamorrean guard similar to the day he arrived and the loss of a warm hand in his weighed heavily on his mind, worryingly so. Leading the way up to his temporary room was easy enough by then, though he couldn’t help but miss the teasing smiles of Anakin at his side. 

His room was oddly quiet when he arrived, the guards silently positioning themselves in front of his door instead of following him in and he silently thanked the Force for it. He was alone when he stepped through the durasteel door and heard it swish closed behind him. 

It was truly a shame that he had to spend the solitude he had gained by communing with the council, but that was his job after all, keeping them up to date on the mission, which he hadn’t been doing. The council would no doubt have something to say about that.

Slipping his communicator out of his pocket, he set it to the council’s frequency and spread his senses briefly in the Force to make sure no one was listening in on him. Once he got the all clear from the Force, he straightened his posture, shoulders pulling back as he felt the familiar calm of _the Negotiator_ wash over him, erasing the previous unsettledness from the forefront of his mind. 

He didn’t know when the necessity had started to arise for him to be the Negotiator around the people that were supposed to be his family, but the war had changed many things and he didn’t dare dwell on it for too long. Instead, with a last deep breath he opened the frequency and waited for the council to pick up.

It didn’t take long for Mace Windu’s disapproving face to flicker to life in the familiar blue static of his holocom. _“Knight Kenobi, we’ve been waiting to hear from you,”_ the Jedi Master began before Obi-Wan could even attempt a sentence. Not even the miles and miles of empty space between them could hide Mace’s annoyance. 

Strangely enough, it didn’t quite make him want to cower anymore than it used to. He thought back to Anakin’s radiant smile and refrained from biting out a snide comment. _This is not the time or place for any of that,_ he reminded himself, almost gently. As if he had done this time and time again. 

“Yes, Master, I know. And I apologize for making the Council wait on my report, but I have not had a chance to comm before now due to the fact that I have been quite busy.” _The image of Anakin’s mouth, red and open, flashed through his mind._ “The negotiations have gone well, and Jabba has been hospitable,” _Anakin’s bright eyes dark with lust and he willed himself not to blush._ “I have been successful in making the treaty, but I do not trust in its validity. Jabba gave up too easily.”

Mace regarded him with an unreadable look in his eyes before nodding once. _“Very well, Kenobi. You did well and we are glad to hear of the treaty, though we will keep your concerns in mind.”_

Obi-Wan lowered his head in a show of gratitude, replying “Thank you, master. I am happy to do anything I can to make this war end.” He then took a deep breath, before continuing, not quite trusting himself to not overshare. “But that is not all, master. I found a Force sensitive amongst Jabba’s men. A slave. I was wondering,” his voice wavered, barely noticeably, “if I were allowed to free him and bring him to the temple. His abilities are remarkable though he is far past the age of our Padawans, an adult himself.”

Mace was silent for a long time. 

“I will have to discuss this with the rest of the council, but I do not think it a good idea to bring him back to Coruscant. He is too old to be trained in the art of the Jedi, regardless of his abilities. I’m sorry, Knight Kenobi, but if I were you, I would not get my hopes up. Remember, we cannot save everyone and sometimes the Force wills it not to be.”

Obi-Wan knew that he should have expected just that, and yet he had hoped for a different outcome. And yet, the anger came as swift and deadly as the rapids in a raging river. He didn’t dare let it show on his face as he curtly nodded his head.

“May the Force be with you, master,” he murmured in lieu of a goodbye and heard Mace’s answering “and with you, Kenobi,” before clicking off his comm. He wanted to hurl it at the wall with all the might of his war-hardened muscles. 

Reining himself in before he could do anything stupid, Obi-Wan slipped the comm back into his pocket and let himself fall onto the bed. Flipping onto his stomach, he buried his face in the mattress and the scent of Japor wood hit his nose. _Anakin._ He wanted to yell.

But maybe the rest of the council would vote against Mace, would show the compassion that was supposed to be so important to the Jedi and let him free Anakin and take him home. That was about as likely as making friends with a gundark, he thought dryly, anger at the council boiling deep in his gut. 

He didn’t know how long he was lying there, how long he kept catching himself trying to reach out to Anakin in the Force, but an undetermined amount of time later, his comm buzzed again. Sitting up and smoothing his hair back into its original place, he answered with a carefully neutral expression fixed on his face. 

Mace at least had enough compassion to look apologetic when Obi-Wan answered. He wouldn’t even have to say anything, because in that moment Obi-Wan knew they wouldn’t let him ‘waste’ funds on freeing Anakin. _Of course they wouldn’t._

The Jedi master confirmed this seconds later, apologizing but stating that it was the council’s final decision and he was not to use his available funds to barter for the Force sensitive. His dismissal of Anakin, so easily, had Obi-Wan suppressing a vicious snarl. 

_If they hadn’t kriffed up that badly, Anakin wouldn’t even be there! He wouldn’t have had to suffer at the hands of slavers, if they had just done their damn job!_

He didn’t say anything, only nodded once more and shut his comm off again. He didn’t even have the mind to thank the council for their consideration like he would have only a few months prior. It seemed, the war did things to everyone. It seemed, he was losing all the virtues that made him a good Jedi, one by one. His innocence, his complacency, his selflessness. _The ice around his heart._

He hadn't noticed the white-knuckled grip he had on his comm, until it's edges were cutting into his palm with a sting of pain and he released it with a soft curse he had picked up from his clones. The urge to hurl it at the unseeing durasteel wall was still so strong, but before he could give in to the anger, there was a knock on the door.

One of the guards hollored that the banquet was ready and he was expected soon, taking Obi-Wan's mind off the council and the dark anger swirling in his gut with what felt like a maw full of sharp teeth catching on his soft insides. 

He called back a reply, the edges of his voice too cutting to be his and yet it was. Getting up was easier than he expected, though his body ached from a night spent on the floor and his heart yearned for the scent of Japor wood, he was full of energy, waiting to be expelled. His muscles coiled tight as his anger fed his adrenaline, making usually smooth moves jagged and jerky, forcing him to take deep breaths in order to calm his shaking hands.

Is this how Anakin had felt the night before? How had he become _so angry,_ so quickly? It was heady and dazzling in the way it surged up to meet him, and he knew it was dangerous. Somehow that didn't deter him from indulging in the righteous fury for a few precious moments longer.

Only after he felt too dangerously close to being devoured by it, did he pull back and focus on the Force enough to shake himself out of it. He knew this wasn't how a Jedi should behave but for once he had no one governing his thoughts but himself, and he almost forgave himself for that particular slipup. 

He had to get a move on, he realized and ran a hand through his hair to fix the errant strands that had begun to fall into his face. Checking his lightsaber was still clipped securely to his belt, he strode out the door, hiking his shields higher around himself. 

The banquet was the furthest thing from his mind when he was being lead through the winding halls once again, familiar now. He was wondering about Anakin, hurt blooming along where his ribs lay beneath his skin, feeling empty inside at how easily Anakin had seemed to discard him.

He knew it wasn't fair to the young man, not at all, because it wasn't his choice where he went or what he did, but the vicious thing that was curling in Obi-Wan's guts was purring at the angry thought, as if delighting in another's pain. 

Barely paying any attention to where he was being lead or who was doing the leading, Obi-Wan soon found himself back in the banquet hall in the same seat he had spent the past evening on and memories inevitably came flooding in as soon as he sat down, almost expecting a warm hand to settle heavily on his ankle but none did. His mind was bombarded with _a grinning red mouth, adoring blue eyes, the startling white of teeth peeking through the flashes of a pink tongue, the feeling of a mouth closing around his fingers and sucking-_

Obi-Wan shut the thoughts down as best he could, uncomfortably hot and inherently distracted from what was going on around him, caught up in his guilt and want. Only the smooth voice of the protocol droid brought him back out of his thoughts as it addressed him in basic. 

What it said, made his stomach churn. 

Ice water doused the heat radiating every inch of his skin as quickly as it had come over him, leaving him cold and shivering in wake of what was to come. 

Jabba had arranged for a certain type of entertainment that night, to celebrate the momentous occasion of the treaty, something the Hutt had insisted on being commemorated with a grand banquet and _a show._ With the exploitation of slaves. 

What exactly that entailed, only became clear to Obi-Wan when the dancers walked out into the cleared space before the table. Seven of them to be exact, and his breath stuttered to a halt at the last one, prowling like a nexu on the hunt. He would recognize that walk anywhere.

Black leather and cloth had made way for delicate golden chains, long expanses of bronze skin on display as he walked to centre himself in the middle of the other six dancers, radiant and all-encompassing.

_Anakin._

Every single pair of eyes was on him. His presence was in equal measures captivating and terrifying to Obi-Wan as it seemed to take up all the available space in the room. Obi-Wan felt like he couldn't breathe.

And then Anakin started _dancing._

The music was way too warm and sensual to ever fit a place like Jabba's palace, but it fit Anakin like a second skin. He looked at home in the music, but he also looked like he was holding back.

Like there was a beast caged in his ribes, clawing to get out and he had to move carefully to not startle it and split his skin. With his head dipped down and eyes on the floor, his hair fell in golden curls to frame his cheeks beautifully.

Obi-Wan didn't know how he should ever leave this man behind. 

He'd completely forgotten about the people around him until one of them got up from their place at Jabba's side - his right hand man, Obi-Wan remembered - and strode up to the dancer. He didn't understand what he was planning until it was too late.

_"Dance better! The boss knows you can."_

His accent was harsh, but the basic loud enough for everyone to hear, and his words were accompanied by the laughter of the people around him, Obi-Wan could even hear a few cheers. It had Obi-Wan's blood boiling, but it was _nothing_ in comparison to the rage that swept through him at the _crack_ that suddenly rang through the air. 

Anakin was turned away from the table, red clearly blooming on his cheek, which not even his hair could cover. His gasp had been _audible,_ and that of a caged animal fighting back a vicious snarl.

_"Dance, or else,"_ the guy hissed with a self-satisfied chuckle and it was all Obi-Wan could do to not get up and slice him in half right then and there. His vision was clouded with the images of a rolling head and the satisfying drag of his saber through soft, malleable flesh. He shook his head forcefully to rid himself of the images.

The sides of his vision were tinged in red, blood roaring in his ears and he was itching to burn this _entire karking place to the ground._

Anakin's eyes suddenly snapped up to his and the fire in them was mirroring the one inside of him. The force was buzzing around him like an angry swarm of insects, eager to feed his anger, to protect its favourite child.

It felt like the force was twining their anger together, a tightrope over an endless yawning abyss, a single thread of light in a place so full of scum, it had snuffed out all other warmth.

Obi-Wan was rooted to the spot and unable to move, staring and staring until he thought his eyes must have started to water from the strain. 

All the other people seated around him fell away, once Anakin started moving again. 

It was only them.

Anakin moved like a man possessed, like he truly was a dragon sheathed in human skin, his movements languid and hypnotizing. The gold encasing him, too frail to ever truly keep him rooted, flashed in the light and sent dazzling spots of white dance through Obi-Wan's vision.

He looked _otherworldly._

Obi-Wan finally understood why they called him the Krayt Dragon, there was a dangerous sharpness underlying each of his sensually dragging movements, a fire lending itself to each arch of his spine that said _'careful, careful, come too close and I will swallow you whole.'_

_Obi-Wan wanted to drown in him, dissolve into his fire and blood and become one with the beast of the dunes._

It was a bizarre feeling, the anger winding tighter and tighter around his heart as he watched him dance, choking him with the realization that this child of the desert was _too radiant to ever be left behind._

Anakin was still staring at him, and the fire in his eyes blazed brighter than the suns overhead ever could. He was so full of defiance, brimming over with it as it spilled from him in grins edged with teeth and looks that could fry a lesser man to ash. Obi-Wan had never in his life met a person he had wanted more.

This angry, angry man was like a mirror of his most intimate self, because he knew that wrath well, saw it shining through under all of his placid demeanour and Jedi exterior in the latest hours of the night.

So wrapped up in his own feelings and Anakin, Obi-Wan did not notice the banquet around him progress. Not until it was declared done and he looked away from Anakin to see the platters of food mostly empty and Jabba giving him an unreadable look. He had no idea what to think, what to do, what to say.

Obi-Wan felt strangely hollow while at the same time brimming over with too many emotions he once again locked up behind his mental shields.

He looked over at the makeshift stage again, long enough to see the dancers leaving, to see Anakin's broad back wreathed in delicate gold and faint red lines.

He could almost taste the wrath on his tongue, the taste of ozone and ash.

The delicate arch of an eyebrow came to mind, a soft smile drenched in the morning suns, the length of an arm thrown over sleeping blue eyes.

How was he ever supposed to leave without him?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> See y'all next time, which is hopefully sooner than this chapter but no promises, my muse is more stubborn than Anakin on steroids.


	7. And this is only for tonight

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Goodbyes happen. Truths are revealed. Obi-Wan is weak (and it feels _so good_ ).

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Alright, look, I know what I said. This chapter was _not_ supposed to take as long as the last one, but real life is a bitch and though this chapter was so much fun to write, I was gone for a while, which means I couldn't post it. 
> 
> Sorry! I do hope you like it though.
> 
> The chapter title is (almost) from the song 'Centuries' by Fall Out Boy.

Obi-Wan awoke in a startled awareness of _'I am not alone',_ body becoming alert a lot quicker than his mind. His lightsaber was in his hand and ignited before he could even _blink._

It illuminated a pair of eyes he somehow knew should be blue, but were silver in the humming glow of his saber. And both him and the stranger stayed locked like that for a few moments longer, their breathing drowned out by the buzzing of his saber, a steady line between them that warned _'Do not cross.'_

It gave him time to study a face that had become intimately familiar to him in the time he had spent on the desert planet. A face that looked so eerily different in the harsh colours of his saber, so different from beneath the hard line of his arm poised to attack. 

He didn't show any fear though, not that Obi-Wan could read, anyways. He didn't look caught off guard or red handed either. He looked _soft, giddy._

_"Anakin,"_ he breathed, startled and yet at ease. Hushed, reverent.

His lightsaber clicked off. 

Anakin bent down and kissed him. Obi-Wan's body moved like a wave to meet him in the middle, hungering just as much for a taste of the man.

Blame it on the darkness settling over them like a heavy blanket, blame it on him just having woken up from a conflicted sleep, blame it on the weakness of his heart. But he didn't stop kissing back, not even when Anakin slowly lowered himself down on top of him to slot their bodies together in a rush of warmth. 

His grip on the saber hilt loosened and he felt it roll away before hearing it clatter to the ground in a satisfying rush of metal on durasteel. A flash of white above him signalled Anakin's grin when they broke apart.

"Heard you were leaving tomorrow," he said, betraying the grin still lingering on his lips. 

Obi-Wan's entire heart ached and seized.

"I am," he admitted, adding _'alone'_ in his head. 

"Lie with me?" He asked instead of speaking the momentous truth that he almost gave in and stole Anakin away. 

The night always makes honest men, even out of the toughest of liars.

"Kiss me?" Anakin challenged, and Obi-Wan obliged. _Only for tonight, to say goodbye, to remember him._

It was slow and it was gentle and it felt like Obi-Wan's heart was the size of the world, taking up every available space in his chest.

Anakin shifted on top of him, cupping his face.

“You are a wondrous man, _my Jeedai. My Obi-Wan._ One day I want to count all your freckles and kiss all your scars.”

He said it with such certainty, such knowing they would meet again, that Obi-Wan felt dizzy with it. The Force was humming around them softly, wrapping them in a tight bubble of _only us._

And yet Anakin’s voice was a trembling bird sitting on a knife’s edge, it was the open rawness of make-believe tilting the world onto a new axis, sending it spinning seven degrees to the right.

Obi-Wan wanted to howl and cry, how dare someone separate them? He knew it would be useless. Only he had the power to change his fate, only he could make that decision and he already knew what he would do. He didn’t dare dwell on it, instead, he buried his face in the soft hair at Anakin’s temple, who in turn sunk into his chest. 

They stayed wrapped up in silence like that for a few minutes longer. 

Suddenly, a shiver wracked Anakin’s body and the Force around him, his body trembling against Obi-Wan, who was hit with a wave of emotion. Emotion, Anakin had tried to hide and suppress, he realized with a start, their kisses carrying a lot more weight all of a sudden.

The mix of anger, hurt, sadness and fear were suffocating to Obi-Wan and he was left wondering how it must feel for Anakin to be in the middle of it. It felt like a mirror had been shattered and they were now lying in a bed of glass, bleeding out of their own fault. 

“You’ll be leaving,” Anakin murmured into his chest, voice wavering and on this edge of accusatory. “You’ll be leaving without me.” He sounded like a lost child.

“You know, you are a _Jeedai._ You were supposed to be a- a keeper of peace! We used to tell each other when we were younger, that, that one day a _Jeedai_ would come save us all! We were so full of hope, we’d all heard the stories of the systems that were liberated and the, the whole thing with the Force and we were so sure! We were so sure, we’d be next! _Surely,_ the _Jeedai_ wouldn’t just let slavery rage on!” 

His voice was trembling and there were tears in his eyes. Obi-Wan’s entire heart split in two. 

“You were our heroes! But the years went by, and we all-, we all grew tired, we gave up on hope. _Why haven’t they come to get us yet?_ The younger slaves would ask us, and we, we didn’t have an answer. Why hadn't you come get us yet?” 

Obi-Wan watched as the tears slowly tracked down Anakin’s face, not daring to interrupt his frantic flow of words and yet wanting nothing more but to surge up and wipe away the proof of his failures, heart yearning and full of hunger.

“We got _angry._ Scoffed at any mention of the _Jeedai,_ discarded them as just another story we told one another to not go insane, a children’s tale; a _fairy tale._ ” 

“We were _children,_ huddled together in dirty clothes, in cramped space, sharing stories of these magical heroes, who could take on entire armies on their own, with just a lightsaber and the ‘Force’.”

His voice was dripping with disdain now, anger at his younger self, who had bought into the stories, and with _so much pain,_ it shook the air around him as the Force came alive under his emotions. 

“And then _you_ show up, and you're so _kind,_ so wonderfully _human_ and full of scars, and- and, you're a _Jeedai._ You're _everything_ I spent years being angry over and hating for leaving us to survive on our own. _Everything_ I had stopped believing in.” 

Obi-Wan’s chest felt too tight for the breath he was trying to take. He didn't know if he wanted to know how Anakin finished this, finished _him._ But he knew deep down, he deserved it all, the anger and the accusations, even the imminent destruction of his very self when Anakin would inevitably walk away. (It never came.)

“And you- you see me as human, as a person. And I think, _maybe_ it will happen, _maybe_ you’ve come to free us all.”

“You’re supposed to fight injustice, and yet you look me in the eye and make deals with the _biggest criminal this side of the two suns while doing bantha kark about all of us slaving away.”_

The words cut deeper than a saber ever could, slicing him open and leaving him raw and oozing blood.

Obi-Wan wanted to deny him the rightful anger, wanted to scream that he _could never leave him, that he would come back for him._

Instead, his voice dropped into a ragged, raw whisper as he murmured _“I’m sorry.”_

And again, _“I'm sorry.”_

_“I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm sorry.”_

The two words kept tumbling from his lips in a frantic _prayer_ for forgiveness. It was all he could do to stop himself from confessing all of his mistakes and flaws right then and there. It would spill his guts right out onto the bed in a bloodied, writhing mass and he knew, there would be no coming back from that. 

“I failed you.” The realization hit like a punch to the gut, robbing him of all breath as the gravity of those words set in. _We failed the entire galaxy. Who are we, if we turn a blind eye to injustice? How are we any better than those doing the crimes?_

He knew the answer deep down in his subconscious, knew that really, they weren’t much better though they tried. They had lost sight of their goal a long time ago.

He reached up with shaking hands to cup Anakin’s face, who was staring down at him with silent tears streaming down his skin and dripping from his chin to soak into the fabric of Obi-Wan’s tunic. 

_“You were supposed to be better,”_ Anakin choked out, a sob wrenching his way somewhere deep out of his guts. 

Obi-Wan was lost for words, all he could do is softly kiss the tears leaking down Anakin’s face and Anakin let him. He marvelled at the trust Anakin bared before him with that simple gesture, at how despite all of his sharp-toothed flaws, Anakin refused to move away.

This young man was a galaxy in itself and Obi-Wan felt tears choking his airway with how strong gratitude welled in his chest at that simple display of trust despite all. 

Anakin buried his face in Obi-Wan’s chest with a wounded noise, even then not able to break the contact though Obi-Wan knew he would have deserved it. Obi-Wan wrapped his arms tighter around him and pressed his face into Anakin’s hair, letting him cry into his undertunic.

Once Anakin’s shaking had subsided, he blindly reached up to trace Obi-Wan’s lips, searching, before following with his own mouth and pressing a kiss to where his fingers had rested. 

And another. 

Obi-Wan kissed back softly, putting all the things he couldn't say into the movement of his mouth against Anakin’s, who gasped softly and pressed closer in a frantic search for _something,_ for _closure._

He felt baptized in the salt of Anakin’s tears, like all his mistakes had been forgiven, like he was atoning for them right there with Anakin’s mouth thieving him of breath. 

When Anakin pulled away, his lips were red and his chin sensitized by rubbing against Obi-Wan’s beard. He wanted to rub himself _raw_ on it. 

His entire being was comprised of desperation and a frantic need for taking all he could get before it was too late. 

_He kissed like he did anything in life, like it would disappear in the blink of an eye._

Obi-Wan let him. He kept repeating to himself that it was only for the night, that it was to say goodbye but he knew he wouldn't be able to stop thinking about the hunger in every of Anakin’s movement or the look in his eyes when he cried that night or the shape of his dune-hot mouth on Obi-Wan’s. Not for a long time. 

Those were now absolutes stored in the space between his ribs, facts he would carry with him as simple as knowing Tatooine was a desert planet and Coruscant was not. He knew this had changed him, that his heart was beating a different rhythm.

He was a different person from when he came to Tatooine. There had been points in his life that fundamentally changed him and his outlook on life. 

Almost not being chosen as a Jedi Padawan. _Being_ chosen as a padawan, reluctantly. Watching his master die. Watching the first death of the war, a clone named Buster, CT-3429, three blaster bolts to the chest. And now, having met Anakin. 

It made him question everything he had ever worked for, the order and their philosophy, his own part in the galaxy-wide war and injustice.

He didn't say any of it though, all words having run dry before they even hit his tongue. There were no words to describe what he was feeling. They didn’t need any, the Force was humming around them, set alive by Anakin’s outburst. 

Anakin was still kissing him, making soft little sighing noises in between kisses and pressing closer as if he was trying to bury himself in Obi-Wan’s chest and make a home out of his ribcage, right there next to the facts of how he looked when he kissed or wept or laughed. 

_Obi-Wan would let him._

The kisses gradually got slower, deeper until he was losing all breath to Anakin’s mouth. Anakin only seemed satisfied, when he had Obi-Wan gasping achingly against his lips and his own mouth and chin were red with irritation. 

His tears had dried. His red-rimmed eyes softened. 

“You asked me to lie with you,” he started, reverently. “So I won't push this any further. But thank you. Thank you for being human with me.”

Obi-Wan smiled a gentle smile, pulling him close and leaving a kiss on his forehead. His heart shivered in his chest, like a bird readying to take flight.

“Thank you for staying through all my mistakes. Thank you for not giving up on me.” _I will come back for you,_ he didn't say.

Anakin nodded his head once before parting with one last carefully adoring kiss before gently settling on his chest again and closing his eyes. He looked so tired. Obi-Wan gently laid a hand on his head, petting his hair and Anakin breathed out a soft sigh.

After a few seconds, Obi-Wan curled his arms tighter around Anakin, shifting him so his face was instead pressed into the crook of Obi-Wan’s neck. He could feel the soft puff of air every time Anakin exhaled. It was oddly calming. 

It didn't take long for both their breathing to even out.

* * *

The next morning, Obi-Wan woke alone. 

He thought, maybe he had dreamt it all. Sitting up, he knew he hadn't. His lightsaber wasn't on its perch atop his clothes, but carelessly lying on the floor. His mouth ached from kissing. His tunic had a damp spot where Anakin had cried into him. His neck still tingled from where Anakin had exhaled into his skin.

Everything had been real and in the punishingly soft light of the morning, he didn't know what to make of it. Anakin’s words still rang in his ears. _You were supposed to be better._

He rubbed at his eyes, the familiar ache in his chest not leaving any time soon, he knew. His eyes felt puffy and yet he knew, he wouldn’t cry. He hadn’t cried since he was twelve years old. All pain from that point on, had strictly been expressed through silently rocking back and forth on his bed late at night to minimize noise. 

Only when he shook himself out of his thoughts, did he spot the bowl of fruit sitting next to the door and smiled. He missed Anakin already. 

He ate in silence, thinking over the events of the night and how he was supposed to go on after that. It was clear to him that he couldn’t just take Anakin with him. He had to play his part in the cosmic Force. 

It didn't take him long to finish the bowl of fruit as buried in his thoughts as he was, and neither did getting ready after. Slipping back into his familiar Jedi attire felt like stepping into a suit of armour that would protect him from himself and the world beyond. It felt dishonest.

The reassuring weight of his lightsaber clipping to his belt served as a steady reminder of who he was. He hated himself for it, if only enough to make it bearable.

Once he had stepped outside the door, he was greeted by the sight of the two Gamorreian guards and no one else. He didn't want to think how Anakin had made it past them and into his room in the night before. 

They greeted him with a synchronised nod of their heads and led him down to the main hall one last time. He almost savoured the feeling of being stared after, the hunger palpable in the room. It made it easier, in a way. Leaving. It made adrenaline kick back in and his blood boil. He itched to burn this place to the ground.

He could barely be bothered to listen to Jabba and the golden droid droning on, but put his most charming smile on to make it out of there alive. He chanced one single glance at the kneeling Anakin and the small smile he gave him somehow made everything okay. 

He didn't remember much of the rest of his conversation with Jabba but he was being led out of the hall at some point, saying goodbye with a respectful bow that made bile rise in his throat. His eyes fell to Anakin again in that second and he read that same burning anger that would haunt him for months to come. 

He didn’t look back.

Phantom kisses made his mouth go numb.

* * *

Stepping out into the dry heat of morning Tatooine, had him breathless and feeling like a speck of dust amidst the vastness of the desert with how open his surroundings suddenly were once again.

It felt good to be outside of the dark durasteel walls, but it simultaneously felt like suffocation as the entirety of the galaxy came rushing back in past the bubble of his mission and Anakin. 

He pulled his pale hood back up over his copper hair, resigning himself to once again to becoming a lone ghost wandering the deserts. 

His bike was where he had left it what felt like a lifetime ago. Getting on was easier than expected, the accelerator coming to life on the second try and he glanced back one last time before speeding out into the dunes.

The suns were burning down on him unforgivingly as he streaked through the bleak landscape of sand, sand, sand as far as one could see. His mind was far away as he rumbled along, the red of his bike the only colour visible all around as he moved further and further from his aching heart. 

Red on white, like blood on snow, the bike kept his body tethered and suddenly he missed the stars that had accompanied him on his way to Jabba’s palace. 

Once again, the hours dragged by and left him feeling empty and shaky by the time Mos Eisley came into view with startling flashes of colour, no less jarring as the first time he had stepped onto its sandy streets. 

It took him a while to find the same rental he had gotten the bike from and sliding off of it had his legs aching in every muscle. He thanked the shopkeep once again, before walking back out into the heat.

He was soon swarmed by children, some he even recognised and it took him all of a few seconds to crumble like the ruins of war-riddled homes. Giving away the rest of his credits made satisfaction spread through him, hoping that maybe he could atone for the mistakes he had made and the opportunities he had let pass.

Of course, the flash of his credits in the afternoon suns attracted more children and soon he was the eye of a storm of ragged clothing and greedy desperate hands. He gave until his pockets were empty, watching eyes light up with hope that maybe the child would have something to eat that evening. 

He knew none of it would make a difference in the long run but it was worth the look on their faces. He watched as kids instantly weaseled away once they had gotten their fill, lest someone tried to steal it. 

It didn't take long for him to be alone again. Some of the children had already started pestering others but he thought, maybe it made a small difference.

He kept walking. 

His feet carried him to his ship without thinking, hand absentmindedly curling over his lightsaber. He had enough of a mind to wave at the lotkeep as he walked past, but none more than that. Neither did he notice the other too new, too expensive looking ship parked not far from his. 

* * *

Stepping into the ship was like stepping into an entirely different world. He stripped out of his cloak and hung it on its designated hook before sinking into the pilot’s seat. 

So that was supposed to be it? 

He was going home. It didn't feel like it.

Sighing, Obi-Wan got to work setting the coordinates and preparing the ship for take-off. 

It didn't take him long to get it ready and before he knew it, he had initiated the starting sequence and he was lifting off. The endlessness of the galaxy greeted him once he had left Tatooine’s orbit and he didn't dare look back. 

Instead, he rummaged through one of the storage boxes in search for a ration bar, cold hands peeling the silver wrapper once he'd found one and starting to chew, staring blankly out into the black void as the ship lurched into hyperspace. 

The blue of hyperspace reminded him of Anakin’s eyes.

He felt sick. 

Abandoning the ration bar suddenly, he closed his eyes in an attempt to calm himself and the Force around him. 

He must've fallen asleep at one point, because his dreams were plagued by blue eyes and soft golden curls, gentle smiles and aching kisses. By the words You were supposed to be better, over and over again until he woke with a start, tears dripping from his chin and soaking into his beard.

It was going to be a long flight.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm just giving you all a heads up, that these chapters will probably continue to be updated veryyyy slowly. 
> 
> Life will be busy for me in the next few months, so I'll try my best to continue writing but it might take me a while. Sorry if it goes on spontaneous hiatus!
> 
> Don't know if people are even still reading this, but if you are - thanks for sticking with me! This is the longest continous story I've written so far, so thanks. 
> 
> Also, shoutout to Lilyconrad for being awesome with advice, go check their stuff out - it's amazing.
> 
> Alright, I'm done. Bye!


	8. I want the catharsis of knowing

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Obi-Wan tries to deal with leaving Anakin behind and it brings out some rather dangerous coping mechanisms.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yup, I'm still alive. Sadly, updates will continue to be this slow as life has yet to let up on the stress front. 
> 
> However, this chapter is slightly longer to make up for it and as always, I hope you enjoy!
> 
> Chapter title is from 'Banks' by Lincoln. (As always :D)

When Obi-Wan Kenobi stepped off of his ship onto Coruscanti ground eighteen hours later, it was the morning of the next day and his steps were just as light as they had always been. Nothing betrayed the clean image of Kenobi the Negotiator, all emotions buried deep in his subconscious, jagged stones at the bottom of a calm pond. If one were to try and read his thoughts, the efforts would slip past like water on glass, hours of meditation effectively having restored peace in his waking mind. 

Coming home felt alien, the bustling hangar bay, that welcomed him, like a strange new world. Mechanics in their bright orange suits scurried past in the typical frenzy of things to do and it almost seemed like no one would notice him over the din of ship repairs and engines starting up all around him. There was a class of padawan learners not far from him, working on their own ships under the instruction of Rahna Maar, one of the head mechanics, a togruta with green skin and grease smeared on her gloves.

She was nice, a good instructor and a few years older than him. They had always gotten along great, even if his mechanical talent was acceptable at best and useless at worst. They’d shared many drinks over how her students were doing and how he himself had scraped through his basic mechanical tests. Rahna had always been up for a laugh or a good chat, one of the few people in the temple he counted as friends. 

His thoughts were interrupted by the approach of one of the intake officers, who took his arrival down on the inbound log with a polite smile before notifying the council as Obi-Wan instructed. He thanked the man - Jagan, if he remembered correctly - before winding his way through the hangar bay, sparks flying up on his left as a padawan welded a bolt into place and the scent of mechanical oil drifted up to his nose. And with a last wave towards Rahna, he was through the doors at the end of the hangar bay and inside of the temple.

Going from all that noise and motion into the polished halls of the Jedi temple felt just like stepping out of the blazing Tatooine heat into his ship had. His boots made a soft squealing noise as he turned the corner from the hangar bay, greeting a fellow Jedi as he went. 

The walk to the lift, that would carry him up into the clouds over Coruscant, felt longer than he knew it was. Endless, familiar corridors of stone columns blurred together in his mind as he focused on what he wanted to say in his report, his thoughts swirling up to collect under the high ceilings like swarms of bats. 

His steps slowed momentarily as he reached the last corridor leading up to the lift, his boots scuffing on the polished floor. He was sure he must be trailing sand and look quite dusty with his trek through the Tatooinian desert and no chance to clean up. It added a touch of insecurity to the tension already settled in his gut as he walked the last few steps to the elevator. It felt like he was balancing on a tightrope over a pitch black abyss of uncertainty. 

There was no hesitation in his gait when he reached the elevator, stepping inside as the door slid open with a quiet sigh of metal on stone. The ascent up and up was barely noticeable and yet it still made his stomach lurch. His report was clear and polished across his mind, like fresh snow on a winter morning. Saying nothing of what had really happened on Tatooine.

_A wet-hot mouth, tears, a smile so dazzling it ached right into his bones._

_The Force, singing so beautifully it wrapped around him in a comforting shroud, even now._

The doors slid open. 

He was greeted by the ring of council members, three of them ghostly blue flickers as they sat in their tents or outposts or bunkers far from this haven in the clouds. Their blue forms sizzled in the familiar sound of static, the morning light filtering through their transparent bodies as it cut long shapes into the floor.

Mace Windu was once again the first to address him. 

“Welcome back, Knight Kenobi. We are glad to see you well and hear of the success of your mission.”

Obi-Wan bowed his head in greeting, regarding each of the masters in turn as he tried to reconcile his feelings on Tatooine with the men and women now seated before him. These were his order, his _family,_ and yet a thread of doubt wove through the bottom of his soul, dark and vicious but hidden behind his shields. _So much fighting, and what for? What is the point if it makes no difference in the world?_

“Thank you, masters,” he addressed the room at large, hands serenely folded into the sleeves of his bone white cloak. A ghost wherever he went, a ghost amongst its brothers. “As I already informed the esteemed council before I set off on the journey homebound, I was able to secure a treaty with Jabba the Hutt, securing access to the secret trade routes in Hutt controlled space. As hoped, these should bring a great advantage in the fight against the separatists.”

Slipping into his report was like pulling a flimsiplast screen down between himself and the world outside, words coming easily as he recounted the events and made sure his voice didn’t waver on his retelling of meeting Anakin. His shields firmly in place, he was free to let the image wash over him in waves of blue eyes, golden curls and lazy smiles, none of which reached his mouth behind the flimsiplast. 

* * *

“...and thus due to the council’s decision concerning the force sensitive, I returned home alone.” 

_Don’t say his name, don’t give them that, he is yours._ The thought rose possessive and snarling, curling around him like a snake, poisonous fangs bared at his throat. 

Eleven pairs of eyes considered him, assessing and calculating. War had hardened everyone’s faces into impenetrable durasteel. He missed peace like one would miss a limb, the _fighting, fighting, fighting_ tearing flesh from bones without ever having to touch him. And it had touched him many times. 

It had touched all of them, too, he reminded himself with an uneasiness to the thought. _Had it really?_ It was selfish and cruel, to think he and his men suffered more than these Jedi did, just because he did not carry the rank of _Master_ and commanded an entire order.

He carried just as much responsibility over his unit than they did over all the Jedi serving the Force. But he _ached_ for the fate of his men, each gunned down brutally was dearly remembered and mourned at night. Each of them had a name and a face he sorely missed. 

Lately, there was so much he yearned for. He wondered if it would ever stop.

He wondered if he would go down snarling and fighting before they took everything from him. 

He didn’t know who _they_ was.

“Thank you once again, Knight Kenobi, for your report. You did a good job ending your mission in success, Negotiator.” The look on Mace Windu’s face told him they had been convening in the Force while he had been deep in thought, and the way his mouth formed around the vowels in _Negotiator_ spoke not of mockery but of pride. 

Reflexively his shields shuddered ever tighter around him. 

“You will be staying on temple duty for two weeks before being sent back out to the front. As always, you will help out in the archives and take over guard duty. You may use your free time as you wish.” 

The words were clipped but not unfriendly, clearly something else was weighing on Windu’s mind. 

“Unsettled you are, young Kenobi,” Grandmaster Yoda suddenly piped up, startling Obi-Wan into snapping his eyes up to the weathered green face. 

It hadn’t been a question and Obi-Wan stayed silent. 

The master’s head tilted, his wise eyes crinkling around the edges as he considered Obi-Wan deeply. Obi-Wan’s jaw tightened at the kindness in those ancient eyes, the urge to splinter his mental shield stronger than it had been seconds before. 

“Upset, the council’s decision has you. The Force sensitive, think of him, do you?”

Obi-Wan’s heart stuttered, a shuddering inside his chest like a fledgling’s first breath. _He couldn’t know, could he?_ No one was in his head, that much he knew, and he hadn’t given himself away. _He hadn’t._

“Master,” he started, drawing in a breath that caught like clothes in the thorn bushes of Devaron, “I am distraught by the council’s decision, yes. I do not understand why one like him should be denied. I believe his power too great to be kept untrained.” 

The confession rolled out of him, thunder where once had been a mild summer day. 

A breathless silence was the aftermath, bombshell delivered and everyone’s ears still ringing.

Yoda smiled, something gentle and wise. Something forgiving, not addressing the anguish lacing through the young knight stood in their midst. 

“Not the will of the Force, it is.” 

His answer was predictable and yet infuriating, a rush of hot white anger where there had been hope inside of Obi-Wan. He did not believe him for a moment. _He’d seen the Force around Anakin, he was the will of the Force in whichever way one could grasp it._

Something had awakened in Obi-Wan, had shattered the fragile calm draped over the roiling storm inside of him that needed to know Anakin was alright, that still felt the phantom touch of Anakin’s Force presence ghost against his. 

“Just let me bring him to you, let me show you what power lies inside of him,” his voice was a plaintive mix of honest and _desperate._ He glanced around the room, a row of faces greeting him. Not all were stony and unreadable, some showed the sympathy and pain of one recognising themselves in him and his futile, juvenile hoping.

The force around him swelled once again, a silent conversation passing over his head before Yoda piped up again, just as serene and ancient looking as he had for as long as Obi-Wan knew him. 

“Not meant to be, it is. Meditate on this, you should.”

“We are sorry, Kenobi. This wasn’t an easy decision to make, but we are at war and cannot expend funds for each and every Force sensitive we find, especially ones that are too old to be trained as Jedi. We hope, in time you will be able to see as we do, and forgive us for this. Some decisions are hard and we understand how upsetting this must be, witnessing it for the first time as you are. We understand if you use your downtime to meditate on this.” 

Obi-Wan’s jaw ticked before he relaxed. They were only trying to help. They hadn’t seen him as Obi-Wan had, they couldn’t know. This wasn’t their fault. 

He bowed, a voice ringing in the back of his head, whispering _You should have been better_ in an achingly familiar cadence. 

“Thank you for understanding, Masters.” He caught some of their sympathetic nods or smiles. It didn’t make him feel better like it would have a year ago.

“We will extend your temple duty to two months to help you,”Mace added, “you will need all your focus in the field.”

Turning his back on them with another short bow felt like giving up, retreat felt like a betrayal. He should fight for Anakin like he would undoubtedly for Obi-Wan. But this wasn’t his fight, was it? And yet a fire burned beneath his skin, the shattered calm in shards of glass all around him and a hot itch travelling his saber arm.

The path back to his chambers was familiar in a way the slope of someone’s shoulders was when they turned in just the right direction. His feet moved on their own, carrying him easily as his mind wandered very different halls and stairways, so unlike the columns and spaciousness of the temple. But just before he found his room, his feet switched paths and carried him away from the privacy, his room would allow him. Instead, they carried him to the training halls.

Finding another knight to spar with wasn’t too hard in the mornings, and so it didn’t take long for him to find himself in the middle of the hall, a buzzing training saber in his hand and the hot angry itch tearing through him. 

His first opponent went down quickly, no match for Obi-Wan’s emotions and the skill to his soresu style. So did the second. The third burnt a mark into his arm while he was turning to slash at them again. It barely stopped him from slashing a nasty burn across their chest and so it took less than a minute for him to be banned from the halls for a day. The overseer sent him away with the strong recommendation to _meditate, Knight Kenobi. Otherwise I will be forced to contact the council on your unusual display of anger. Something you know a Jedi cannot have._

It made an uncomfortable mix of shame and anger burn through him, he was quick to hide behind his shields, _‘something you know a Jedi cannot have’_ ringing in his ears. Slinking back to his room, Obi-Wan examined the burn on his arm before settling on his bed to meditate. It was strange to be back in this room after months away. It barely felt like his own anymore.

Sinking into meditation on the barely used bed he called his own without ever having owned anything was easy. It was diving into the oceans of Kamino, the tidal waves of his thoughts pulling at him every which way. 

Serenity would elude his grasp like a rabbit would a fox’s.

* * *

Life at the temple was jarring after months on the _Negotiator,_ his trusty flagship, and he missed his men. They felt more like family than some of his Jedi brothers and sisters, he noted with a jolt of something indiscernible, something akin to fear. 

What was happening to him?

His life at the temple was an endless litany of _Meditation-Archives-Saber practice-guard duty-Meditation-Sleep-Wake-Repeat._

Days blurred into weeks, blurred into months and Obi-Wan thought all of his meditation may have given him a clue as to what the Force wanted from him. 

All it did was make him _hunger._ He wasn’t sure what for but he had a suspicion that grew with time, a gnawing in his bones like he was missing something vital.

He pushed himself harder in the training halls, meditated until he lost everything inside of himself but the Force and woke every morning with burning muscles and aching bones.

Never again though did he let himself go in the training halls like he had that first day he had been back, since anger was _something he knew a Jedi could not have._

It almost grew easier when he was sent out again and reunited with his Ghost company after returning to the council for a brief report on how he had resettled. 

Cody clapped a hand over his shoulder and pulled him into a one-armed hug, and suddenly he felt more at home than he had in months. His unmoored drifting had come to a stop and an anchor sank itself deep into his soul at the familiar tight spaces of the _Negotiator_ closing in all around him. He had forgotten how to live with more space than necessary.

Warmth flooded Obi-Wan at the fondness in Cody’s voice, when the commander greeted him with a “Welcome back, general. We’ve been missing you.”

Clones greeted him left and right when he stepped aboard his ship for the first time in two months, warm touches of gloved hands on his robes that seemed to penetrate the perpetual cold which had taken up residence in his skin. 

The nagging hot itch in the back of his brain was still there, still _hungry,_ but it was easy slipping back into the simplicity of rain soaked battle after rain soaked battle. 

There was a certain delight in peeling off wet clothes and stepping under the tepid spray of community showers, which felt searing on his skin. There was a bone deep satisfaction in mind-numbing exhaustion after week long battles and in the weight of his saber in hand, the uneering loyalty of the men at his side.

There was family to be found in between the warm bodies of brothers at war. 

And yet, with each battle they fought, with each slide of his saber through screeching metal, he found himself thinking of what it would feel like if those were warm, breathing bodies of flesh instead. Bodies deserving of slaughter, bodies that had _wronged_ the galaxy. And with each passing battle, his slashes grew more vicious and cruel, the cutting lines of his proper Soresu style grew restless, a dance he lost himself too, surrounded by soldiers who wouldn’t dare question their general. 

Until they did.

Because CC-2224, Cody, was by no means a man of cowardice. That had been bred cleanly out of him from before he was born. Cody was worried about his general and he wouldn’t let this stand. General Kenobi had been pushing himself harder and gotten more reckless as their campaign stretched on and Cody would not watch him kill himself.

He’d watched countless times as the general’s hands passed over bruises and darker blaster burns while in the showers and he couldn’t help but think the general was proving something, to himself perhaps. The way he fought like a snarling gundark at times, face pulled into a mask of restrained anger, storm boiling somewhere close under the surface.

Obi-Wan knew, of course, that his men were worried, that this wasn’t healthy but each of Cody’s attempts at actually talking to him about it, he managed to thwart. 

He didn’t count on Cody cornering him in his own quarters, had once again underestimated the loyalty of his men and now here they were.

Obi-Wan, battle-sore and worn to his bones, that same chill still cooling his skin to perpetually _icy._ Cody, tired and exasperated, _sick_ of watching his general tear himself apart.

“So,” Cody started with a curl to his mouth, that could almost be a smile.

“So,” Obi-Wan replied with a well practiced smirk, the edges off and too sharp.

“Sir, with all due respect- something’s off,” Cody had carefully prepared this part, “you’re hacking at those droids like they’ve personally offended you and let’s just say, some of the men have been worried. So have I. What’s wrong?”

Obi-Wan, to his credit, stayed impressively calm. No slip of the smile on his face, no shifting in his seat. It took him several seconds to reply. 

“Thank you, commander, for your concern,” he started and Cody knew this wasn’t going to work. It sounded rehearsed, his _Negotiator_ voice. “But you do not need to worry for me or my safety, I am handling it.”

Cody had worked with General Kenobi for two years. He had had disagreements with him for about half of that time. 

This wasn’t just affecting General Kenobi’s performance, it was making his men antsy, too, and Cody would be damned if he didn’t at least try and break through that calm veneer. Kenobi trusted him with his life, his body in battle, _why not with this?_

_“Shavit, general,”_ he all but snarled. _That_ made Obi-Wan’s eyebrows tick up in surprise. Cody hardly swore as much as some of the other brothers. 

“You’ve been pushing yourself too hard and it’s not only affected you, but it has also affected the men! _What is wrong? And don’t you dare use your Negotiator voice on me.”_ Cody’s voice had lowered into a rough whisper, worry turning his voice to steel, before turning all gentle and aching on the next few words. 

“Do you really think we don’t notice all the bruises and burns when you shower with us?”

Obi-Wan sighed, something soft and defeated. An exhale where once had only been inhale. 

“I can’t stop thinking about him, Cody.” 

Cody didn’t know who _him_ was, but he knew that voice. It usually only came out when the general, when _Obi-Wan_ was seriously wounded or it was the middle of the night and he came knocking on Cody’s door, smelling of Corellian brandy. This was everything that hid underneath _Jedi Knight Kenobi_ , this was the lost young man Cody rarely got a glimpse of.

“About who, sir?” He asked carefully, but Obi-Wan waved him off. 

“You know I don’t like those titles when we’re not on the battlefield.”

Cody nodded, stepping closer to the Jedi, who now looked all the tired, sore man he was. “Who are you talking about, Obi-Wan?” His voice was soft, a whisper carefully directed at the only non-brother he trusted with his life. 

It took Obi-Wan several minutes to get it out. Admitting it, even just to his trusted Commander, felt like a failure at being a Jedi. 

“The mission on Tatooine. The one, I had to leave the campaign for? You set me down on Coruscant, two months and a handful of days ago.”

Cody nodded, “You were called off quite suddenly, back to Coruscant. Important Jedi things, I remember.” He was leant against the wall now, looking down at Obi-Wan who was worrying at one of the bruises on his arm. 

“Well, I was sent to Tatooine to negotiate with Jabba,” his mouth did a curiously wry little twist here, “but I also found a Force sensitive amongst their ranks.”

“And that’s who you’re talking about?” Cody clarified and Obi-Wan nodded. If Cody didn’t know him better he would’ve said he looked miserable. To Cody, he just looked conflicted and something _more,_ that he was still trying to hide. 

“I’m not allowed to barter for his freedom, even though he’s incredible in the Force and it’s dangerous to leave him be a slave. Who knows what that would lead to.” His voice trailed off towards the end, but Cody didn’t believe that to be the entire truth.

Obi-Wan looked like Rex did when he lost a _vod_. Like all the brothers did when they lost one of their own. 

“That’s not all, is it?” He prodded gently and the look Obi-Wan gave him once he looked up, could only be described as _haunted._

“They said I should meditate on it, that it would solve itself, but it _hasn’t, Cody._ It’s not going away. I don’t know what to do.” The sigh Obi-Wan gave made him sound so young, Cody couldn’t stay quiet.

He had two options: perpetuate the Council’s ideals and help drive his general mad, or tell him to _give into it._ Cody had no Force sensitivity and didn’t quite buy into the whole load of kark surrounding it, but if it did exist, _this_ was it. This ghost which was haunting his general was the closest he’d come to believing in the Force in a long time. 

“Go after him, then. Show them what they’re missing. No one should have to live in slavery.” His voice did a wretched twist at the end, as if he knew _exactly_ what he was talking about. 

It made Obi-Wan’s already aching heart stutter at the _goodness_ of these men. _His_ men.

“I- thank you, Cody. I don’t know if I can do that, but I’ll try to keep myself out of trouble. I’m sorry for worrying you and your men.”

Cody stepped closer to rest a hand on the back of his neck, a quiet sign of comfort the clones used to calm one another. Oddly enough, it worked on him, too. It warmed his skin and made him smile a genuine small smile. 

“Just trying to keep you alive, sir.”

His voice was quiet when he said, “thank you, Cody.” 

The moment felt fragile, oddly so and something inside Obi-Wan shifted back into its original place. Maybe he could do something after all. Maybe hacking down screeching metal _again and again_ was not the best use of his strength. 

He was about to make some sort of excuse to be left alone with his thoughts, when Cody’s hand slid down his neck to clap him on the back. 

“General, with all due respect, you’re coming with me tonight. Waxer and Boil started a cuddle pile in the barracks to greet the 501st that joined us, and we’re joining, too.”

Obi-Wan was taken aback just a little, he hadn’t expected to be invited into their dog piles without having sustained grave injuries. (They wouldn’t let him out of their sight then, like a pack of wolves guarding one of their own.)

“I can’t do that, Cody. I know how important this is for you guys, you shouldn’t have to deal with your superior officer.” Obi-Wan curled his hands once before settling them to cross over his chest in an unconsciously defensive position.

Cody scrubbed a hand over his own face, letting out an exasperated sigh. “You know, if all Jedi are such self-sacrificing _di’kuts_ no wonder you need new recruits. That’s shavit, sir. You look like kaj and I know my brothers will be excited to welcome you in, even if for once you’re not aching all over.”

“Come on, now. We _want you_ joining us. Rex hasn’t seen you in months and his boys are just as excited. Let yourself have this.” 

And the mention of Rex was all it took to loosen Obi-Wan’s rigid posture enough for Cody to grab his hand and drag him out of the quarters in direction of the barracks. 

Cody was right. His own company and the one under Rex were both delighted to welcome the Jedi general into their midst. And that was how Obi-Wan found himself sandwiched between Cody at his back and Rex grinning at him from the front, Fives’s arm thrown over the both of them from somewhere behind Rex. 

Everyone wanted to make sure their general was okay, and many of the clones had hugged him once he and Cody had arrived, before piling around the two of them in true clone fashion.

He was fairly sure Cody mouthed _‘told you so’_ into his neck.

It was the genuine smile on Rex’s face and the warmth of breathing clones all around him that lulled him to sleep as easily as he used to be able to with meditation. He fell asleep to the thought of Anakin’s smile.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you can forgive me for not having Anakin in this chapter, I promise he will return next time around in all of his bratty glory. Let's hope that's not another 2 months away! Until then, have a good Christmas time (if you celebrate it) and, if I don't get Chapter 9 up by then, a happy new year!
> 
> I'm also contemplating starting one or two other obikin fics before finishing this one because I can't stop thinking of the ideas so there might be some new things in store, who knows.
> 
> I have added the chapter count for this story, but it is by no means the end version and will probably change over the course of me writing it.


	9. I'm scared to ask you if you would do the same for me

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Obi-Wan's condition worsens until his decision is made for him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Listen, I know. Remember that funny joke I made at the end of last chapter, how we might see each other before 2019 ended? Hilarious, right?
> 
> I know it's been a while, but that's mostly due to the last scene of this chapter, it wasn't quite cooperating with me and I didn't know how to write it, until I spontaniously sat down today and just wrote the entire scene. So if you find any mistakes in it, this is why. I couldn't bare to hold onto this any longer. Hopefully, you enjoy it anyways, the chapter is even longer than usual to make up for my absence.
> 
> Edit: Chapter title from 'Smokey Eyes' by Lincoln (as always).

A week later, Obi-Wan Kenobi found himself deep in the trenches on Mimban, up to his knees in mud and soaked to the bone. It seemed Mimban was the culmination of all of his missions before, an inhospitable swamp planet that seemed to want to drown him and his men, devour them.

They slept, fought and marched in endless, colourless slews of mud and water. Nothing ever dried, their armour perpetually damp. Commando droids had an easier time than the living, breathing fighters of the Republic and those lives were in constant danger.

He slept no better than the months leading up to the mission and often found himself standing guard at the edge of their camp, stretching out his senses to alert for danger. The rain only made his skin even colder than it was anyways, as if the missing sunlight had sucked out all the warmth. The grip of his saber was ice cold whenever his fingers found their white-knuckled way around it, to do what he was made for - defending the innocent. Was that still the truth if there were no innocent people to be found? They all had blood on their hands and metal bones. 

It was no secret throughout the ranks that the general’s condition was worsening, though Obi-Wan tried his best to hide the deep circles under his eyes by simply always moving. Not even Cody’s multiple attempts to heckle him into sleeping would work anymore. He worked himself tirelessly to make up for his failures, to stop himself from clawing at his head, if only to rip out the memories plaguing him at every turn and sate the itch burning through his entire being. 

His saber work grew sloppy with fatigue and every new march through heavy rain made his bones ache more. As did the one they were now on. Him and his men were tasked to find the heart of the seperatist base and eliminate it. 

Currently, they were marching against a steady stream of droids trying to slow their progress. Obi-Wan’s men were loyal, even in the harshest conditions, even now. They followed their general as unerringly as they always did, just as they were bred for, the Jedi right at the front and leading the march with a weaving line of bright blue light and hoarse commands directing his company. 

He was still just as vicious, just as restless, slicing through droid after droid in an unstoppable march forward, pressing on to clear a path for his men. They were close, he knew, when more and more droids started pouring out into their path.

Obi-Wan’s saber came down again and again, spinning and twisting, kicking up mud and water, in stark contrast to the grey of the world around him. He was _alive, alive, alive_ and every single new slash of his lightsaber proved just that, a taunting, reaching, singing _did not get me now, will not get me then._ Losing himself to battle came as natural as breathing, single-minded focus bleeding out all thoughts inside his head with terrifying accuracy. 

It was what led to his mistake. It wasn’t the rain, that was blurring his vision, or that his foot could have caught in the mud, it was simply his need to slash and destroy, to _eradicate_ and at least try to satisfy the hunger eating him alive. 

_**“General!”**_ came too late to change his path, Cody’s voice ringing terrified in his ears as he had already twisted into another spin, saber swirling through the air behind him. 

He didn’t register the searing, terrible pain until he landed back in the mud, staggering with a horrible noise caught behind his teeth. His entire body started shaking, grip on his saber going white knuckled as pain shot through the entirety of his left arm. 

Only when there was a familiar clicking sound too close to his body, did his eyes refocus on the scene in front and he could only just yank his saber up to meet the blaster bolt headed straight for his chest, before decapitating the offending droid, all the while clutching his shoulder with his other arm. His knees were buckling beneath him, he registered dimly, but he was already floating somewhere deep within himself. 

The nerves he had just commanded with such accuracy weren’t responding anymore, a circle of black closing in on his vision as he could feel the burning of his skin where he’d been hit. A searing, gnawing thing, hungry and vicious like it would devour him from the inside out.

Cody’s hand on his arm as the commander reached him was the last thing he registered before tipping over and landing on the wet ground. A halo of red blood was sinking into the mud around him, an oasis of colour his body gladly sprawled out in.

_“Rex, get him out of here!”_

Cody’s harsh cry followed him down into his subconscious.

* * *

Obi-Wan woke with that same sound still caught between his teeth, a terrible awareness stealing over him in the blink of an eye, but his attempt to sit bolt-upright was cut off by a fresh wave of agony tearing through his body. 

A warm hand pushed him back down, careful with his injured body but firm nonetheless. Opening his eyes revealed Kix, the support medic of the 501st and a dear friend. His mouth was drawn in a tight line, his eyes worried and his tone was low but serious when he spoke.

“Good to see you awake, sir. How are you feeling?”

Obi-Wan tried to answer, but all he could manage was a hoarse croak that promptly ended in a coughing fit. The resulting pain made him freeze in an attempt to make it stop, _make it stop, make it stop._

Kix was there with a flask of water, helping him drink before checking the bacta packs Obi-Wan only noticed then. His entire shoulder was covered in them and Kix, noticing his gaze, said “You got hit by one of those blasted clankers, the bolt went straight through your shoulder. We need to get you onto the _Negotiator_ and into a proper medbay. I’m afraid you will have to spend a few nights in a bacta tank, sir.”

The voice was soothing, the clean factual tone he was so familiar with, that it was easy to take in the information through the haze of pain still simmering. He only registered the actual meaning with a tired nod, consciousness already slipping again. _Lost quite a lot of blood,_ was the last thing he heard. 

* * *

Awareness came and went in sensations of colour and touch. 

The familiar warmth of clones’ gloved hands on him, the blue-white-yellow of their armour. Safety.

The dryness of what had to be the shuttle up to the _Negotiator,_ grey and white and tiny. Warmth.

The cool wetness of liquid bacta, a world of green and blue. Healing. 

* * *

Awaking felt like being reborn. 

_“He’s awake!”_

It drifted down to him slowly, barely recognisable and far far away through the liquid. He felt entirely tranquil, caught between a state of existing and living.

Carefully moving his fingers first, he stayed still as the lid of the tank slowly slid away with a hissing sound that was entirely muffled, like he was sitting at the bottom of a deep well. He could feel it vibrating through his bones.

Keeping his movements slow and careful, he made an attempt to sit up, familiar hands catching him - hands _so warm_ on his bare skin.

Bare skin. He was- 

He shouldn’t notice skin to skin contact the way he did in that moment, but he felt like a starved man, the touch so firm and gentle. _His men._

It was always his men reawakening him from the dead.

The hands were helping him sit up and though he couldn’t open his eyes yet, he knew it was Kix by how his hands fit against Obi-Wan’s ribcage as if they had done it a dozen times before. He was carefully moved into a sitting position, the bacta draining from his body in a satisfying change of temperature. The air felt cool on his skin.

It always seemed to, lately.

He blinked his eyes open through the haze of green liquid, going still at the familiar faces surrounding him. Cody. Rex. And Kix, of course, who was having to shoo the other two away from him so he could remove the oxygen mask on Obi-Wan, who let it happen easily.

It wasn’t his first time in a bacta tank, not by a longshot and he would always feel _unbalanced_ in a way after. Because being submerged came with a state of relaxation even meditation couldn’t offer and resurfacing back into his waking mind felt jarring - he had too many thoughts circling him, sharks out for blood. 

He gasped when his face was freed from the mask, inhaling his first breath of air and blinking at the wetness on his eyelashes. The bacta felt soothing, even now when it was just a thin film on his skin. 

Kix gently turned his body so he could inspect the blaster-.. scar, Obi-Wan noticed as he looked down. Fresh and pink, slightly raised from the rest of his skin but definitely healed. That meant he would be allowed to leave the bacta tank behind and begin rehabilitating his arm - hopefully without pain. 

Rex and Cody looked like they would burst with impatience at Kix’s order to let him work, prompting Obi-Wan to give them a little smile. Cody couldn’t seem to be able to decide between relief and annoyance and Obi-Wan had a feeling it would end in another shake-down like Cody had chased him through in his rooms those few days ago. 

At least Kix offered him a few precious seconds of peace as he checked Obi-Wan’s vitals, the scar and his reflexes. He was cleared with a good-natured reprimand to _not do that again, general,_ and the other two were finally released. 

They rushed closer, Rex - the less annoyed of the two - carefully hugging him close and tracing the scar with a gentle finger - skin on skin. It was confusing only for a second, until Obi-Wan noticed their lack of gloves and armour. They had stripped down to their blacks and nothing more. 

How long had they been waiting for him to wake?

“I’m okay, really,” he muttered, at which point Cody laid a hand on his other shoulder, prompting him to look up.

He was met with familiar brown eyes, which could only be described as _worried_ at best and _stormy_ at worst. Like the tides on their home planet, that’s how their eyes looked when they were about to dress a shiny down.

Or in this case, him. 

“General,” Cody started, voice short of trembling with restrained _something._

“Cody, give him a break, he only just got drained,” Kix ordered before Cody could say anything else. 

Obi-Wan watched them share looks over his head, Cody very obviously not happy with that command and definitely ready to challenge his brother on it, before firmly being reminded that in medical things Kix outranked him. He gave a defeated sigh.

“Be careful next time, general?” he offered in a tone a lot softer than he no doubt would have otherwise.

“We’re glad to have you back, sir,” Rex agreed with a little smile, patting his back comfortingly. 

Cody still looked like he had more to say, but Kix stepped between them once more to help Obi-Wan into a standing position.

“First of all, boys, it’s not justified to dress a person down if they’re already undressed and second of all, let the general shower first, why don’t you?”

Kix’s voice was exasperated, like he’d been suffering too long under his brothers’ incessant presence and irritability. But when he turned towards Obi-Wan, his face was soft, even as it held the same pinched look of worry and annoyance as Cody’s did, just better hidden. 

“Come on, now, let’s get you into a sonic,” he murmured quietly, gripping Obi-Wan firmly by the healthy shoulder and circling the other under his arm to support him as he slowly helped him out of the bacta. 

It felt like Obi-Wan had to relearn how to move, almost stumbling as he stepped out and shuffled the few steps over to the small sonic attached to the room they were in. 

Kix helped him shower off the bacta residue and he was glad for the help, his body still feeling entirely boneless as it reawakened from being submerged. His men had seen him shower countless times, nudity in war something entirely insignificant but he was glad nonetheless that the bacta had healed his countless cuts and bruises before he’d woken up. Otherwise he would be showing them off now, which would only feed into Cody’s distress. 

He leaned against the wall of the sonic as Kix’s hands traced his skin, firm and warm as always, an extension of himself by how familiar they fused against his skin to rid him of the traces of bacta. 

Once he was clean again, Kix carefully pulled him back into the main medbay, helping him dress in a fresh set of his undergarments. 

It felt like a loss and a rescue all at once. Being clothed gave him a sense of self back the bacta tank had robbed, but it also made him lose that sense of contact a part of him hungered for. _Care, compassion,_ all things the Jedi preached, all things he was starved for. 

Nothing over the last few months compared to that single touch of Kix’s hands helping him up. Because it had been _human_ and it had been _caring_ and it had been everything he had tried to carve out of himself with every new swing of his saber. 

Being dressed also gave his men a free pass at him, to speak their mind like Kix had barred them from until now. 

He was gently sat down on the bed a few feet from the tank, before finding himself looking up at the familiar faces of both Cody and Rex, Kix resting a hand on his shoulder comfortingly before pulling away with a smile and leaving him to his fate.

“He’s all yours, boys.”

It shouldn’t make him feel safe to see Cody’s stare levelled at him in such a way. It really, really shouldn’t.

It felt comforting to know that even if no one else did, his men would be there to hold him accountable for his mistakes and help him grow from them. He deserved this, he knew. He had been irresponsible as both a general and a soldier.

But that was the thing, wasn’t it? He _wasn’t_ a soldier. 

They were all just pretending to be soldiers in the name of peace, pretending to know what was right and what was wrong - but in truth, they were all just boys on a playing field that had outgrown them. 

He didn’t know right from wrong anymore, but he knew one thing. One thing his mind kept coming back to, even now, freshly awoken from deep sleep.

Anakin _was_ the will of the force.

Cody bent down to lay a hand where Kix’s had just been and he wondered- had his men come together to absolve him of starvation?

But no, they had always been like that. His clones had always searched for touch when things got rough - first with each other, and later with him, too. Like he had become one of them, inducted into the circle of brotherhood by virtue of leading them to their communal death.

Mass execution by way of galaxy-wide peace.

“Listen,” Cody murmured, snapping his thoughts to attention like obedient little soldiers to the voice of their general. Like his men to his own voice.

He looked up, the familiar stormy gaze directed at him, and inexplicably, it calmed him. They wouldn’t let him get away with his mistakes, they wouldn’t let him be a monster.

“General, with all due respect. _Obi-Wan,_ this isn’t going to continue like this. You almost got yourself killed and we risked _a lot_ to get you out of there. The mission almost failed. You were lucky, we all were. But we’re not letting this just run its course until you get yourself _or us_ killed.”

Cody was very much making sure he was looking at him, so that he could get the full effect of how Cody’s _no-bullshit_ face softened into an expression so worried it made his heart _ache._

Rex didn’t look any better, crouched down like his brother, no doubt there for emphasis and support. Rex had always had a soft spot for Obi-Wan’s recklessness. If he agreed with Cody, it must be serious. 

He was startled when Cody dropped something smooth and metallic into his hand. An id chip. A generic one, many of which were to find on this ship for identification and passage through certain control points.

A little old fashioned but untraceable - unlike the built-in ones in the standard crafts. 

He looked up, disbelief plummeting in his stomach like he was personally jumping off Bal’demnic cliffs in the Outer Rim. Was- Did this mean what he thought it would?

Rex spoke up, giving a sigh. 

“Obi-Wan,” - _it never grew old to hear them say his name like he was one of them_ \- “we’ve organised a ship for you. Untraceable, off the records. Bit of an older model, but me and some of the boys did some work on it so it should be up to standards.”

Cody cut in before Obi-Wan could reply, fixing him with a stern look. 

“Now, this is how it’s going to work: you will make sure you are healed before you go, we will cover for your off-book assignment and you will go get your boy. Go straight to Coruscant once you have him, we will hold down the fort here. Understood?”

Obi-Wan breathed out a shaky sigh, feeling like all the space the bacta had made inside of him was filling up with- _hope._

His voice cracked when he answered. Was he weak for not fighting them? 

His doubts had so mercilessly torn at his flesh that he felt so very tired of fighting - emotionally. Against himself. Against everything he had known ever since his birth.

“Thank you, men. I-” he considered his words carefully, feeling like they were coating his tongue in lead. “I appreciate it. I do. I will try one more time to bring him home.”

It felt like a fresh breath of air. Like maybe he had only then surfaced from the bacta, the weight of his indecision lifting from his shoulders. 

He would see Anakin again. 

He would try once more to convince the council of his power.

* * *

Rehabilitation cost him another two weeks of time, his men keeping a very close watch on his health and making sure he did not overstrain himself in his eagerness to _finally_ lift this curse off of himself and return to his normal, centred self, hopefully with Anakin at his side. 

He regularly let himself be assessed by Kix to see how his shoulder was healing, training daily to regain his security in fighting. It was the only activity he was allowed to do, Kix had banned him from fighting for his own safety and _‘that of my brothers too, Obi-Wan.’_

The weeks blurred in his seemingly endless saber drills, only interrupted by Fives or Echo who had apparently been appointed to watch over his safety, sometimes even Cody or Rex themselves, to drag him away for a meal or a rest. 

Their precondition for letting him leave had directed his manic energy into a single minded focus to return his health and abilities back to full. He had an actual tangible goal now to see Anakin again and once that decision had been made, nothing would stop him.

So Kix begrudgingly had to issue him a clean bill of health after the two weeks, with the reminder to go easy on his shoulder if possible. 

Every clone that was not on duty was there to see him off, Fives elbowing Rex proudly when Obi-Wan remarked on the good condition of the little ship they’d prepared for him. Obi-Wan only managed a weary smile at all of their excited faces, before nodding at Cody, who reassured him with a small smile of his own and a brief hand on his shoulder. 

* * *

Setting the course back to Tatooine felt entirely alien and he had to take a full minute to reflect on his decision, before he had the courage to start up the ship and leave the familiar landing bay of the _Negotiator_ behind.

He was going against the express wishes of the council. He was going against the entirety of his teachings in a desperate attempt to _prove_ his refusal to forget was _right_. That they couldn’t forget about Anakin because his power was vital in a war like the one they were in.

At least, that was how he tried to rationalise it for himself. That there was _sense_ in what he was doing. That he wasn’t just longing for the blue-eyed Force sensitive like a drowning man for air.

There was comfort to be found in the fact that he was not going from Coruscant this time though, the travel time shortened considerably and therefore less time for him to worry over his decision. He had come too far already to turn back. 

* * *

He thought that continuously during his journey. 

When he landed on Tatooine, he thought to himself _I have come too far already to turn back._

When he rented a speeder, he thought to himself _I have come too far already to turn back._

When he cloaked his presence and used the Force to slip into the palace undetected, he thought to himself _I have come too far already to turn back._

He was aware of how much he was risking. 

Finding Anakin inside of the palace was easy, even without wanting to reach out with the Force too far for fear of being detected, could he feel him radiating into the atmosphere like a great big magnet pulling at his being. Actually finding his way to Anakin’s presence proved harder. 

His senses led him almost blindly through the palace, constantly moving, thankful he had opted for his normal dark brown cloak and not the white. 

He only stopped short when he noted another presence in the Force, weaker than Anakin’s and- _steeped_ in the dark side. It was practically dripping towards him and it was only due to his shielding that he wasn’t detected. It wasn’t his mission. 

But maybe the council would forgive him if he came back with a strong Force sensitive _and_ vital intel. 

He carefully crept closer, only enough until he could recognise the presence as one he had fought in the past. 

_Count Dooku._ Conferring with Jabba?

What did that mean? He would have to investigate more but he was already risking even more with every second he spent crouched in the dark hallway. He needed to get Anakin, get out and inform the council as soon as he got back to Coruscant.

Turning away again, he once more focused in on Anakin’s presence and drew his own shields tighter around his Force signature. Maybe Anakin would know more of what went on?

Senses alert and body tense, he slowly crept through the halls, until he found the entrance to the slave quarters, where he stopped momentarily as the hall of barracks stretched out in front of him. There were sleeping bodies all around him and he would be lucky to get out undetected. 

His heartbeat was picking up in betrayal of his rationality, increasingly aware that _Anakin was in this room._ He would see Anakin again. 

Drawn in by this realisation, he carefully crept forward, inching his way along the wall to where Anakin’s presence was coming from. He didn’t know how he would _wake_ Anakin and get him out of there but he firmly focused on _one step at a time._

His heartbeat was loud in his ears. He was _so close._

Carefully, he reached out with his own presence - mindful to not reveal himself completely, in case Dooku noticed him - to nudge against Anakin’s. He had found the bed Anakin was sleeping in, and just seeing him again made his entire chest seize. 

He had _missed_ him. It felt like something he had lost was slotting back into place with Anakin’s force signature settling against his. 

Anakin’s eyes opened and his face was full of confusion for a few seconds, before he spotted Obi-Wan’s dark figure crouched against the wall two beds over. There was not much light in the durasteel cavern they were in, only small slits of windows high above their heads, where ceiling met wall, letting in some of the moon’s silver glow. 

First Anakin’s eyes widened, before his brows furrowed in- _anger?_ \- Obi-Wan waited breathlessly for Anakin’s verdict. Up until now he hadn’t even _thought_ of the possibility that Anakin may betray him and alert guards to his position. 

Anakin got out of bed and silently moved over to where Obi-Wan was standing. The Jedi unfurled a second cloak from inside his own, handing it over to Anakin with a pleading glance. 

The Force was weaving between them, things hanging unspoken in the space it made. 

_You came back. Why are you so late? What about them? What happens now?_

Anakin hesitated. He pulled over the cloak and closed it over his familiar leather outfit. 

Obi-Wan didn’t dare breathe. Anakin’s eyes still looked full of conflict.

But when Obi-Wan reached out to offer Anakin his hand, Anakin accepted. Their hands twined together and it felt like something clicked into place. 

Warmth rushed in from Anakin’s skin to Obi-Wan’s and he breathed out an inaudible sigh. He’d been _so cold._

Carefully he led Anakin back the way he’d come before being stopped by him and led down a side corridor to a different exit. _Servant pathways,_ Anakin mouthed at him and Obi-Wan nodded. They were so close to freedom, to being able to talk again. 

It had been _months._

They stepped out into the desert, hands still intertwined tightly. They had made it. 

Giddiness rose inside of Obi-Wan as he led Anakin around the building to where he’d hidden the speeder. 

“The suns will come up soon,” Anakin murmured, “we don’t have much time.”

His voice sounded clean and factual and yet it still made Obi-Wan quiver to hear it again, to bask in his presence as they both settled onto the speeder.

That was how it should have been in the first place. He should have never left without Anakin, should have never made him think he would leave him to rot. He should have never _considered_ leaving him to rot. 

The gravity of what he’d done and how overwhelmingly right it felt made him stagger momentarily and gasp wetly. He’d tried to _forget._

He wanted to get on first, but Anakin said he knew a shortcut back to the village. Obi-Wan didn’t argue, but slipped into place behind him, very carefully wrapping his arms around Anakin’s waist once Anakin had instructed him to do so. 

They sped off through the dunes, leaving the palace behind undetected. Obi-Wan had a hard time reading Anakin’s force signature, so many conflicting things bombarding him until he drew back into himself. 

Anakin himself seemed closed off while they made their way back to Mos Eisley. They didn’t talk. It felt like there was a storm brewing in the distance, Anakin keeping his chaos very much contained until he could unleash it freely. 

They still didn’t talk until Obi-Wan pointed to his ship after they’d given back the speeder and made their way to the ship port. 

“They will come for me.”

Anakin was the one who broke the silence. Obi-Wan had been trying to find words to say for the entire ride back. 

He nodded. “I know.”

All Tatooinian slaves had tracking devices implanted and their birth data imprinted on their skin. Kix would make quick work of it, if Obi-Wan asked him to. But Obi-Wan wanted to bring Anakin to the council first, to possibly go the legal way of purchasing Anakin. 

He was well aware that Jabba would realise Anakin to be gone sooner or later and once he found his tracking device to be located on Coruscant - he would know who it had been. He wasn’t even sure if they had been spotted or not. 

People in Mos Eisley had seen them, so Jabba would know _sooner_ rather than _later._

Nevertheless Anakin joined him on the ship, the Force a writhing thing around his figure. Only once the landing ramp had closed behind them did they take off their hoods. Obi-Wan was still reeling from the fact that this was _Anakin._

He finally had him back. For the time being.

Anakin turned to him with shining eyes. His voice broke when he spoke again.

_“You came back?”_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am aware that blaster shots don't normally cause bleeding, that bacta is technically clear and that that entire last scene is not very plausible to have happened that way, BUT I am tired and I value aestheticism and Anakin and Obi-Wan meeting again more than realism, alright? So please just keep your criticism to yourself, I am aware and I have chosen to ignore it in favour of just posting this. Now, concerning further chapters, I do not plan to abandon this, but I have no idea how my motivation will hold up. Chapters may continue to be slow. Or I might post again next week, who knows.  
> Also, I have started a few hundred words on a different fic too, so maybe I will upload that at some point as well. It's all up in the air, but to anyone who's still reading - thank you for sticking with me and I will hopefully see you next time!

**Author's Note:**

> This is a multi chapter installment, but I have no idea how many chapters it will include. I have no schedule to when I upload, but I will try to at least finish this fic in a reasonable time frame, that's all I can promise. I hope you liked this first chapter and I always appreciate constructive criticism or the like. See you the next time around!
> 
> If you have a desire to yell at me on another platform, my tumblr is iscariot-rising.


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